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JOSEPH      HARDY     NEESIMA.      A    Biographical 

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HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY, 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


PASSE  ROSE 


BY 


ARTHUR   SHERBURNE   HARDY 

AUTHOR  OF   "  BUT  YET   A   WOMAN,"   AND   "  THE  WIND  OF   DESTINY** 


BOSTON  AND    NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 
press,  Camfcri&ge 


Copyright,  1889, 
BY  ARTHUR   SHERBURNE   HARDY. 

All  rights  reserved. 

GENERAL 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  0.  Houghton  &  Company. 


rS 


PASSE  EOSE. 


IT  was  well  known  to  all  the  inmates  of  the 
abbey  of  St.  Servais  that  the  abbot  was  ill,  and 
it  was  whispered  under  the  arcades  of  the  great 
cloister  and  around  the  wooden  tables  of  the  re 
fectory  that  his  illness  was  unto  death,  —  whis 
perings  which  were  repeated  by  the  guests  in  the 
hospitium  and  their  servants  in  the  monastery 
stables.  It  was  known  also  that  the  monk  Hugo, 
physician  to  the  brotherhood,  had  exhausted  to 
no  purpose  the  herbs  in  the  physic  garden  ad 
joining  the  dispensary,  and  that  the  abbot,  who 
felt  himself  rapidly  failing,  had  determined,  as 
a  last  resort  and  without  further  delay,  to  have 
recourse  to  the  blessed  relics  of  St.  Servais. 

Many  of  those  gathered  about  the  refectory 
tables  looked  to  see  on  this  occasion  the  com 
plete  refutation  of  certain  heresies  which  Hugo\ 
had  brought  from  Salerno,  touching  the  efficacy  / 
of  herbs  and  potions  apart  from  all  intercession  \ 
of  God,  invocation  of  the  martyrs,  or  sprinkling 


1 06505 


2  PASSE  ROSE. 

of  holy  waters.  On  the  other  hand,  without 
doubting  the  power  of  the  martyrs  to  change  the 
counsels  of  God,  but  remembering  rather  that 
to  all  men  it  is  appointed  once  to  die,  the  entire 
community  were  much  disturbed  by  sundry  signs 
and  wonders  foreshadowing  the  abbot's  end  ; 
and  the  recollection  of  these  marvels  filled  their 
thoughts  to  the  exclusion  of  the  sober  words 
which  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  reader  as  they 
finished  their  noonday  meal.  Indeed,  but  an 
hour  before,  Lehun,  the  cellarer  who  drew  the 
wine  in  the  vaults  below  the  larder,  having  fixed 
his  light,  as  was  his  custom,  in  the  iron  ring  of 
the  pier  between  the  casks,  was  suddenly  en 
veloped  in  darkness,  although  no  draught  of  air 
nor  any  other  cause  whatsoever  could  be  as 
signed  for  the  extinction  of  the  torch.  Thrice 
had  he  relighted  it,  and  thrice  was  it  ex 
tinguished  in  the  same  manner,  as  those  with 
him  also  testified.  Moreover,  on  the  preceding 
day,  one  of  the  swallows  having  their  nests 
within  the  west  portal  entered  the  church  at  the 
hour  of  morning  vigil,  and,  after  circling  the 
nave  at  the  height  of  the  vaultings,  passed  sud 
denly  within  the  veil  of  the  sanctuary,  extin 
guishing  with  its  wings  the  light  burning  be 
fore  the  hiffh  altar.  But  most  wonderful  of  all, 

O 

before  the  abbot  was  seriously  ill,  being  but 
slightly  indisposed,  and  taking  his  repasts,  for 


PASSE  ROSE. 


that  reason,  in  his  own   house,  while   the  two 
brothers  who  waited  on  him  were   serving  his 
table,  darkness  filled  the  room  where  he  ate,  it 
being  the  sixth  hour  and  the  sun  without  shin 
ing   brightly.     Such   were   the   marvels   which 
agitated  the  minds  of  the  monks,  as  the  reader  | 
closed  the  volume  on  the  pulpit  at  the  sound  of 
the  chapel  bell,  and  they  rose  from  the  refectory  1 
benches. 

Meanwhile,  the  abbot  slept  on  the  stone  seat 
in  the  convent  orchard.  Thither  he  had  caused 
himself  and  his  pillows  to  be  carried,  and  there, 
to  all  appearance  unconscious  of  the  agitation  of 
which  he  was  the  cause,  wrapped  in  his  long 
robe,  he  dozed,  and  woke,  and  dozed  again. 

No  sound  disturbed   him.     It  was  the  hour 
between    the    noon    repast    and   nones,   when, 
stretched  on  their  narrow  beds,  the  monks  were   \ 
given  over  to  meditation  and  prayer.     At  the 
extreme  eastern  end  of  the  inner  precinct,  on 
the   very   brow  of    the   steep   hill   overlooking 
Maestricht,  the  orchard  was  removed  from  the 
clamor  of  the  great  western  court  without  the 
abbey  close,  while  the  noises  of  the  town  were 
at  this   distance   blended    in   indistinguishable 
murmurs.     In  the  valley  below,  the  river  crept 
lazily  m  the  bed  it  had  won  from  the  hills.    The 
sun  filled  this  valley  with  a  lucent  flood  of  misty 
light.     It  trembled  on  the  hilltops,  whose  sum- 


4  PASSE  ROSE. 

mits  emerged  as  islands  from  an  amber  sea ;  it 
overflowed   the   dim   horizon,  where   the   river 
shone  like  a  mirror  suspended  in  mid-air.     This 
was  the  abbot's  favorite  seat,  under  the  scattered 
trees  whose  fruits  gleamed  in   spots  of  flame- 
like  brightness,  and  whose  boughs  overhung  the 
frail  wooden  crosses  which  served  to  mark  for 
scarce  a  year  the  sleeping-places  of  the  dead. 
It  were  no  wonder  if  to  his  weakened  sense  the 
breath  of  the  tasseled  laburnum  exhaled  a  celes 
tial  sweetness,  or  that  the  dark  verdure  of  the 
almond-trees  and  the  scant  leafage  of  the  peach- 
rows  appeared  radiant  with  the  light  that  knows 
neither  waxing  nor  waning.     Perchance,  dozing 
among  the  graves,  he  mistook  the  chant  which 
came  faintly  from  the  church  over  the  orchard 
wall  for   the  choir  of   the  world  to  which  he 
seemed  hastening  so  fast.     But  as  the  solemn 
sounds  drew  nearer,  first  in  the  pillared  aisle, 
then  louder  under  the  porch  of  the  parvis,  the 
abbot   opened  his   eyes,   listening   attentively; 
and  when  the  orchard  gate  creaked  on  its  iron 
hinges,  he  raised  himself  on  his  pillows,   and 
turned  his  head  to  the  entering  procession. 

The  hour  of  last  appeal  had  come.  The 
monks  had  laid  aside  their  frocks,  for  the  labor 
of  the  afternoon  was  suspended,  and  clad  in 
their  church  robes  they  filed  through  the  narrow 
door,  filling  the  inclosure  from  the  wall  to  the 


PASSE  ROSE.  5 

crest  of  the  hill.  One  might  have  thought  the 
occupants  of  the  scattered  graves  had  shaken  off 
their  heavy  sleep,  and  stood  each  beside  the  bed 
where  he  had  so  long  slumbered  in  silence,  to 
welcome  to  his  place  their  dying  abbot.  Four 
of  the  brethren  lifted  the  sick  man  upon  a  lit 
ter;  then,  resuming  the  chant,  which  floated 
away  over  the  cliff  to  the  city  below,  the  proces 
sion  slowly  retraced  its  steps. 

The  great  bell  in  the  tower  of  St.  Gabriel, 
which  rang  only  when  the  holy  relics  were  ex 
hibited,  had  already  given  its  warning,  and  the 
abbey  gates  had  long  been  thronged  with  the 
sick  and  the  poor.  Mothers  whose  love  no  de 
formity  of  nature  could  weaken  brought  their 
misshapen  offspring  in  their  arms ;  cripples  had 
toiled  up  the  rocky  road  on  their  crutches ;  the 
blind  man,  led  by  the  child,  held  fast  to  the  lit 
tle  hand  in  the  press  of  the  crowd ;  and  one,  a 
mother,  had  brought  her  dead  babe,  hidden  in 
the  warmth  of  her  bosom.  All  these  wretched 
beings,  animated  by  so  many  hopes,  fearful  of 
delay,  eager  to  be  nearest  the  shrine,  crowding 
the  leper  whose  contact  they  feared,  forgetting 
in  their  passionate  desire  the  very  compassion 
they  invoked,  rilled  the  passage  from  the  inner 
gate  to  the  church,  and  fought  their  way  up  the 
steps  of  the  porch  with  a  desperate  expecta 
tion.  Those  who  were  fortunate  enough  to  have 


6  PASSE  ROSE. 

reached  the  screen  which,  just  within  the  door, 
separated  the  public  from  the  body  of  the 
church,  clutching  fast  the  rail  to  hold  their  place 
or  withstand  the  pressure  of  the  throng  behind, 
peered  anxiously  between  the  openings  of  the 
barrier,  their  haggard  faces  pressed  against  its 
latticed  panels  and  their  lips  trembling  with 
rapid  prayers. 

Within  the  railing,  to  and  fro  before  these 
hungry  eyes,  paced  Friedgis,  the  abbey  porter. 
His  head  was  tonsured,  but  in  place  of  the 
monkish  habit  he  wore  a  short  tunic,  girded  at 
the  waist  by  a  cord  from  which  hung  a  bunch 
of  ponderous  keys.  From  time  to  time  he 
threatened  some  more  daring  one  of  the  crowd, 
who,  either  pushed  from  behind  or  desirous  of 
bettering  his  position,  would  have  climbed  the 
screen  but  for  the  porter's  forbidding  eye.  An 
old  man,  whose  thin  legs  trembled  under  his 
palsied  body,  gazed  pitifully  upon  the  broad 
chest,  the  strong,  supple  shoulders,  the  firm, 
elastic  limbs,  as  they  passed  back  and  forth  be 
fore  him,  envious  of  all  that  beauty  which  an 
nounced  the  power  to  execute  the  desires  of  the 
will.  The  mother  with  her  dead  babe  sought  to 
attract  the  porter's  eye  as  it  glanced  over  the  surg 
ing  crowd,  in  some  vague  hope  of  coming  nearer 
to  the  screen ;  and  a  woman  whose  flushed  face 
contrasted  strangely  with  the  pale,  sunken  cheeks 


PASSE  ROSE. 


of  the  mother  peered  eagerly  over  the  latter's 
shoulder.  Whole  of  body,  her  sore  was  of  the 
heart ;  for  her  lover  had  deserted  her,  and  she 
had  come  to  summon  the  aid  of  the  saint  to  her 
fading  comeliness,  and  to  invoke  that  vengeance 
upon  another  which  we  so  often  secretly  desire 
in  claiming  pity  for  ourselves. 

On  the  stone  floor,  between  the  feet  of  those 
in  the  first  row,  crouched  a  girl  of  extraordinary 
beauty.  The  people  called  her  Passe  Kose.  It 
was  neither  ill  of  body  nor  ache  of  heart,  but 
only  a  burning  curiosity,  that  had  brought  her 
to  the  shrine  of  the  martyr.  At  break  of  day 
she  had  been  first  at  the  gate,  waiting  the  hour 
when  the  public  were  to  be  admitted  ;  and  profit 
ing  by  the  momentary  absence  of  the  porter, 
gone  in  search  of  the  hospitaler,  to  announce  the 
arrival  of  merchants  having  cloth  to  exchange 
for  the  potus  dulcissimus  of  the  abbey,  she  had 
stolen  through  the  door  in  their  train,  hoping 
to  find  some  place  where  she  might  hide  till  the 
opening  of  the  gates,  and  thus  enter  the  church 
with  the  first  of  the  multitude.  But  finding  no 
shelter,  she  was  discovered  by  the  porter  on  his 
return,  and,  seized  like  a  child  in  his  arms, 
amid  the  laughter  of  the  merchants  and  the  jeers 
of  their  servants,  had  been  thrust  without  the 
gate.  Notwithstanding  this  rebuff  she  had  suc 
ceeded  in  reaching  the  screen,  where,  treasuring 


8  PASSE  ROSE. 

up  the  insult  in  her  wounded  heart,  she  mut 
tered  a  curse  under  her  breath  whenever  her  as 
sailant  came  within  sight  of  her  flashing  eyes. 

Heedless  of  all  these  emotions,  Friedgis  gave 
hardly  a  glance  to  the  multitude.  If  he  had 
cast  Passe  Rose  rudely  out  the  monastery  gate, 
it  was  because  the  Prior  Sergius,  when  instruct 
ing  him  in  the  duties  of  his  office,  had  dwelt 
long  upon  this  particular,  affirming  with  much 
emphasis  "that  as  neither  David,  nor  Solomon, 
nor  Adam  himself,  the  perfect  work  of  God,  had 
escaped  the  caress  or  deceit  of  woman,  so  might 
one  as  easily  hope  to  bear  coals  in  his  bosom 
without  scorching  his  vestment  as  to  do  what 
had  not  been  in  their  power,"  —  instructions 
I  which  Friedgis  had  not  scrupled  to  carry  out 
i  with  the  disdainful  rigor  of  the  Saxon  slave  who 
despised  the  strange  conditions  of  life  to  which 
fate  had  subjected  him. 

Doubtless  the  Abbot  Rainal,  had  he  not  fallen 
sick  immediately  on  his  return  from  the  Saxon 
campaign  on  which  he  had  accompanied  the 
king,  would  have  endeavored  to  bring  Friedgis 
to  a  more  loving  service ;  for  every  serf  of  the 
domain,  whether  of  those  who  belonged  to  the 
land  when  the  king  bestowed  it  upon  the  abbot, 
or  of  the  Saxon  captives  whom  the  king  had 
distributed  among  his  vassals,  knew  that  the 
welfare  of  his  soul  was  the  abbot's  chief  con- 


PASSE  ROSE. 


cern.  But  the  Prior  Sergius  was  more  easily 
satisfied  on  this  point,  and,  having  administered 
baptism  to  all  according  to  the  canons,  scrupled 
little  to  enlist  the  body  in  God's  service,  whether 
the  mind  were  willing  or  not,  —  a  service  which 
Friedgis,  notwithstanding  his  contempt  for  a 
monkish  life,  executed  as  porter  none  the  less 
zealously,  and  with  such  impartiality  that  had 
it  been  forbidden  the  brethren  to  leave  the 
abbey  close  he  would  have  thrown  the  trans 
gressor  over  the  wall  with  as  little  compunction 
as  he  had  ejected  the  maiden. 

Now  it  happened  that  when  the  side  door  was 
opened,  and  the  chant  of  the  entering  procession 
began  to  fill  the  arches,  Friedgis  stood  in  front 
of  Passe  Rose,  hiding  from  her  all  that  was 
taking  place.  For  some  time  she  bore  patiently 
with  this  obstruction  of  her  view,  thinking  the 
porter  would  change  his  place  before  the  service 
was  over.  The  minutes  passed,  and  still  he  did 
not  move.  When  at  last  the  monks  began  to 
chant  the  Kyrie  Eleison  her  patience  was  ex 
hausted,  and  after  having  in  vain  essayed  to 
reach  him  with  her  silver  bodkin,  furious  lest 
she  should  miss  the  moment  when  the  reliquary 
should  'be  exposed,  she  spat  venomously  upon 
his  bare  legs.  Turning  with  the  rapidity  of  a 
panther,  Friedgis  recognized  his  assailant,  and 
before  she  could  divine  his  intention,  leaping 


10  PASSE  HOSE. 

the  rail,  he  had  seized  her  in  his  arms,  and  was 
bearing  her  through  the  press  as  easily  as  a 
ship's  prow  divides  the  water.  Locked  in  his 
grasp  of  iron,  she  could  not  utter  a  sound, 
though  her  nails  were  deep  in  his  bosom,  and, 
before  she  realized  what  was  taking  place,  she 
found  herself  once  more  without  the  walls,  and 
the  gate  barred  behind  her. 

While  yet  panting  for  breath  the  gate  was 
reopened,  and  to  her  surprise  Friedgis  appeared 
again.  The  frail  bodkin  was  still  in  her  tightly 
closed  fingers,  and  she  clutched  it  closer,  re 
solved  to  break  it  in  her  enemy's  heart ;  but  as 
he  drew  nearer  she  recognized  in  his  hand  her 
necklace  of  gold,  which  had  become  loosened  in 
her  struggles. 

"  Whence  hadst  thou  this?  "he  asked,  hold 
ing  it  out  to  her.  She  extended  her  hand  to 
take  it,  speechless  with  rage.  "  Answer,"  said 
Friedgis,  with  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"  Give  it  me  ;  it  is  mine,"  she  said,  breath 
less. 

"  Answer,"  repeated  Friedgis,  advancing  a 
step  menacingly. 

"  Thief !  brigand !  "  gasped  Passe  Rose,  clasp 
ing  her  bodkin. 

Seeing  that  he  could  effect  nothing  by  vio 
lence,  and  fearful  of  remaining  longer  absent 
from  his  post,  Friedgis  resorted  to  persuasion. 


THY 

i 


PASSE  HOSE.  11 

V^CA> 

"  If  thou  answerest  truly,  thou  shalt  return," 
he  insisted  coaxingiy. 

"It  is  too  late,"  she  replied,  tears  of  sullen 
rage  filling  her  eyes. 

"  Nay,  come,"  he  said  briefly. 

She  followed  him,  trembling  with  anger  and 
joy,  through  the  gate  to  the  steps  of  the  porch,' 
crowded  with  those  unable  to  penetrate  within 
the  church. 

"Hold  firmly,"  he  said,  lifting  her  to  his 
shoulder. 

"  And  the  necklace,  dear  porter?"  she  whis 
pered  in  his  ear,  encircling  his  neck  with  her 
arms. 

"  If  thou  wilt  come  to-night,  and  knock  thrice 
at  the  small  north  gate,  I  will  give  it  thee," 
said  Friedgis. 

"  By  St.  Martin,  I  will  come !  "  answered  the 
girl  quickly. 

"  Good.  Hold  fast,"  he  replied ;  and,  forcing 
his  passage  to  the  screen,  he  deposited  her  in 
the  place  whence  he  had  so  rudely  torn  her. 

Careless  of  the  wondering  glances  of  her 
neighbors,  she  scanned  eagerly  the  scene  before 
her.  The  office  was  finished.  The  abbot's  lit 
ter  reposed  at  the  foot  of  the  choir  stair;  be 
yond,  between  the  parted  curtains,  stood  the 
reliquary,  in  front  of  the  altar. 

Whatever  the  record  contained  in  the  annals 


12  PASSE  ROSE. 

of  the  monastery  of  St.  Servais,  or  in  what  man 
ner  soever  the  relics  of  its  patron  saint  are 
therein  connected  with  the  wonderful  recovery 
of  its  abbot,  this  is  what  happened  :  — 

Having  been  transported  into  the  church, 
whether  from  the  coolness  of  the  air  or  because 
the  fever  approached  its  natural  term,  or  whether 
from  the  virtue  of  the  herbs  of  Brother  Hugo 
or  the  sight  of  the  Prior  Sergius,  who  intrigued 
to  be  his  successor,  the  worthy  abbot  felt  at  the 
same  time  both  an  abatement  of  his  fever  and  a 
ravishing  sense  of  slumber  ;  so  that  even  before 
the  reliquary  had  been  brought  from  the  crypt 
below  the  choir,  the  chant  of  the  brotherhood, 
echoing  above  his  head,  between  the  narrow 
walls  of  the  clerestory,  seemed  like  the  soothing 
song  of  a  mother,  and  the  voice  of  the  celebrant 
died  utterly  away  to  his  hearing.  When  he 
awoke,  the  light  reflected  from  the  yellow  sand 
stone  walls  was  gone,  and  for  a  long  time  he 
searched  his  memory  to  explain  the  star  shining 
so  close  beside  him  in  the  night ;  till  at  last,  his 
eyes  becoming  accustomed  to  the  darkness,  he 
perceived  the  star  to  be  the  lamp  of  holy  oil,  and 
that  two  brothers  watched  and  prayed  near  his 
litter.  Remembering  then  all  that  had  occurred, 
and  recognizing  by  his  refreshment  the  miracle 
that  had  been  done,  having  offered  thanks  to 
God,  he  called  to  the  monk  nearest  him.  The 


PASSE  HOSE.  13 

monk,  thinking  the  abbot  beyond  even  the  succor 
of  St.  Servais,  shook  with  terror  at  seeing  his 
lips  move,  so  that  when  the  abbot  bade  him  sum 
mon  the  porter  to  assist  in  carrying  him  to  his 
own  room,  the  monk's  knees  sank  under  him  and 
refused  their  support ;  whereupon  his  companion, 
who  had  also  heard  the  abbot's  request,  hastened 
in  his  stead  to  the  passage  which  led  to  the  por 
ter's  lodging.  It  was  by  this  passage  that  Fried- 
gis  entered  the  church  to  ring  the  bell  for  the 
daily  offices.  Muttering  a  prayer  as  he  went, 
Brother  Dominic  —  for  that  was  his  name  —  hur 
ried  down  the  corridor,  and,  being  in  haste, 
opened  the  porter's  door  precipitately,  expecting 
to  find  the  room  dark  and  Friedgis  in  the  sound 
sleep  of  midnight. 

If  from  Passe  Eose,  who,  faithful  to  her  prom 
ise,  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  low  cot,  the  apparition 
of  the  pale  face  in  its  black  hood  called  forth  a 
suppressed  shriek  of  terror,  the  sight  of  a  woman 
of  such  loveliness  in  the  chamber  of  the  porter 
caused  the  monk  a  surprise  greater  than  the 
devil  himself  could  have  effected;  and  before 
Passe  Rose  had  finished  her  cry  he  was  flying 
down  the  passage,  pursued  by  its  echoes. 

Now,  however  opportune  for  the  abbot  had 
been  his  appeal  to  the  compassion  of  St.  Servais, 
his  return  to  consciousness  was  exceedingly  ill- 
timed  both  for  Friedgis  and  Passe  Rose ;  for  the 


14  PASSE   ROSE. 

latter  had  not  recovered  her  jewel,  nor  the  former 
learned  how  she  had  obtained  it.  Passe  Rose, 
indeed,  had  but  just  come  when  the  appearance 
of  Brother  Dominic  in  the  corridor  caused  her 
to  spring  to  the  door  by  which  she  had  entered. 
This  door  opened  into  the  walk  between  the 
church  and  the  hospitium,  next  to  the  small  gate 
by  which  access  was  had  to  the  abbey  close 
without  passing  through  the  great  courtyard. 
Unable  to  move  its  heavy  bolt,  the  girl  sank  upon 
the  floor,  convulsed  with  terror,  her  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  spot  where  the  monk  had  stood. 

Friedgis,  more  concerned  for  the  information 
he  desired  than  for  the  consequences  of  the 
monk's  discovery,  in  vain  endeavored  to  allay 
her  fear.  "  Come,"  he  entreated,  kneeling  beside 
her  and  drawing  the  necklace  from  his  pouch. 
"  What  dost  thou  fear  ?  See,  here  is  thy  collar. 
Tell  me  who  gave  it  thee."  But  terror  had  taken 
away  Passe  Rose's  power  of  speech.  She  had 
even  forgotten  her  jewel,  and  continued  to  gaze 
at  the  passage  as  if  she  still  saw  the  livid  face  of 
the  monk  looking  at  her  from  its  dark  recesses. 
"I  tell  thee  they  shall  not  harm  thee,"  said 
Friedgis,  closing  the  passage  door  and  turning 
its  heavy  key.  "Fear  nothing.  I  will  crack 
them  one  by  one,  like  fagots,  over  my  knee. 
See,"  he  repeated,  pressing  the  necklace  into  her 
hand,  "  here  is  thy  collar." 


PASSE  ROSE.  15 

"Let  me  go,"  implored  the  eyes  of  Passe  Eose. 

"  On  my  faith  thou  shalt  go.  Look."  The 
porter  drew  back  the  bolt.  "  Only  tell  me  first." 

As  he  spoke,  footsteps  were  heard  in  the  cor 
ridor.  They  did  not  escape  the  quick  ear  of  the 
girl,  to  whom  they  imparted  the  energy  of  a  fresh 
fear.  "  Save  me  !  save  me  !  "  she  cried,  spring 
ing  from  the  floor,  and  throwing  herself  upon 
the  porter's  neck. 

"  I  will  save  thee ;  I  will  carry  thee  out  my 
self,"  said  Friedgis  disdainfully,  endeavoring  to 
unlock  the  girl's  arms.     "  See,  we  are  going." 
And  renouncing  all  hope  of  calming  her,  he  lifted 
her  in  his  arms.     "  Only  tell  me  where  I  may 
find  thee.     Whisper  it  in  my  ear."     But  while 
he  spoke  the  arms  about  his  neck  relaxed  their  / 
hold,  the  head  on  his  shoulder  fell  back,  and  the  I 
body   slid   from   his   grasp.      Passe   Rose   had 
swooned. 

Holding  his  burden  as  best  he  could  with  one 
arm,  Friedgis  sought  to  open  the  door  by  which 
the  girl  had  come,  and  while  his  hand  was  on 
the  latch  the  grating  of  a  bolt  was  heard  in  the 
walk  without,  de  threw  his  shoulder  against 
the  oaken  frame. 

The  door  was  barred  fast  on  the  outer  side. 


16  PASSE  HOSE. 


II. 

Passe  Rose,  when  any  one  asked  whence  she 
came  or  who  were  her  parents,  lifted  her  eye 
brows  as  if  to  say,  What  difference  does  that 
make  ?  But  when  she  chose  to  be  communicative 
she  had  good  listeners,  whether  her  tale  was  grave 
or  gay.  Her  family  had  fled  from  the  vicinity 
of  Toulon  to  escape  the  pest,  which,  however, 
overtook  both  her  father  and  her  mother  before 
they  reached  the  confines  of  Provence.  She  next 
appeared  with  a  company  of  mountebanks  and 
dancers  at  Chasseneuil,  where  the  king  was  as 
sembling  his  vassals  to  invade  Spain.  Flutter 
ing  like  a  rose-leaf  in  the  storm,  Passe  Rose  was 
swept  along  in  the  throng  gathering  from  Bur 
gundy,  Bavaria,  Lombardy,  and  Austrasia  to 
follow  the  banners  of  Karle  beyond  the  Pyrenees, 
and  reached  Chasseneuil  in  season  to  dance 
before  Queen  Hildegarde  at  the  Easter  fetes,  — 
a  performance  of  which  she  boasted  proudly,  and 
which  she  assigned  to  her  sixth  year.  For  while 
Passe  Rose  knew  very  well,  by 'counting  her  rosy 
fingers,  that  eighteen  and  six  make  twenty-four, 
this  fact  taught  her  no  fear  and  hinted  no  cau 
tion.  Life  was  to  her  no  cup  of  doubtful  flavor, 
gingerly  drunk  with  an  eye  on  the  bottom,  but 
an  ocean,  over  whose  sparkling  expanse  she 


PASSE  ROSE.  17 

smiled,  her  lips  at  the  rim,  drinking  alike  the 
sweet  and  the  bitter,  with  that  thirst  out  of 
whose  fullness  spring  courage  and  joy. 

It  would  appear  that  after  Roncevaux  she  fol 
lowed  the  army  northward  on  its  way  to  quell  j 
the  Saxon  insurrection,  but  abandoned  both  it  | 
and  her  mountebanks  at  the  Rhine.  It  is  even 
possible  that  she  passed  into  Italy,  but  this  is 
doubtful,  for  to  follow  the  itinerary  of  Passe 
Rose  by  her  descriptions  would  be  to  travel  over 
the  known  world.  Certain  it  is,  however,  that 
she  came  to  the  fair  of  St.  Denis  with  a  company 
of  Frankish  merchants,  at  an  age  when  her  mere 
presence  was  their  fortune ;  for  whether  it  were 
pearls  or  perfumes,  Egyptian  linen  and  paper, 
oil  or  wine,  buyers  were  plenty  within  the  sound 
of  her  laughter  and  the  glance  of  her  eye. 

When  the  fair  was  over,  and  the  merchants 
were  about  to  set  out  for  England  for  purchases 
of  tin  and  wool,  either  because  they  treated  her 
ill,  or  because  she  had  no  desire  to  travel  so  far, 
or  perhaps  for  graver  reasons,  —  for  of  this  mat 
ter  she  would  give  no  account,  —  Passe  Rose  fled 
secretly  in  the  night ;  and  going  a  long  way  in 
a  thick  wood  without  finding  any  shelter,  she  lay 
down  beside  a  wooden  cross  near  the  road,  where, 
after  saying  all  the  prayers  she  had  ever  heard, 
she  fell  asleep. 

Now  Werdric,   a  gold-beater  of  Maestricht, 


18  PASSE  ROSE. 

returning  from  the  fair  with  two  donkeys  and  a 
servant,  was  hastening  home  to  his  wife  Jeanne,  * 
whom  he  loved  above  everything  else  in  the 
world,  and  with  whom  he  lived  in  perfect  happi 
ness,  except  —  for  they  had  no  children,  a  lack 
which  both  sorely  lamented.  It  was  all  in  vain 
that  Jeanne  fasted,  and  that  Werdric  made  a 
golden  image  exciting  the  envy  of  all  who  saw 
it,  and  which  he  gave  to  the  church  of  St.  Sebas 
tian  ;  so  that,  being  now  old,  he  thought  no  more 
about  it,  but  Jeanne  still  prayed  and  fasted. 
Passing  through  the  wood  in  the  early  morning, 
Werdric  was  astonished  to  see  so  fair  a  girl 
sleeping  alone  in  such  a  place,  and  descending 
from  his  donkey  he  awoke  her,  asking  where 
was  her  home,  and  if  she  would  go  thither  with 
him. 

"  Willingly,"  said  Passe  Eose. 

"  And  where  may  it  be  ?  "  asked  Werdric. 

"  It  is  where  thou  art  going,"  said  Passe  Rose. 

Thinking  that  she  spoke  of  some  village  or 
hamlet  to  which  they  would  soon  come,  he  set 
her  upon  the  servant's  donkey  and  pursued  his 
way,  marveling  at  her  dress,  which  had  silver 
lacing-cords  and  a  hood  lined  with  vair. 

"  How  far  may  thy  home  be  ? "  presently 
asked  Passe  Rose. 

Then  Werdric  remembered  the  fasts  and 
prayers  of  Jeanne,  and  deemed  that  God  had 


PASSE  ROSE.  19 

answered  them,  —  a  fact  of  which  Jeanne  made 
no  doubt  when  he  told  her  how  he  had  found  the 
young  girl  alone  and  asleep  by  the  roadside, 
under  the  cross. 

Perhaps   it  was  because  she  fared  so  muck 
better  with  the  gold-beater  and  his  wife  than 
with  either  the  merchants  or  the  dancers  that 
Passe  Rose  remained  with  the  former  to  this 
day.     For  Jeanne  gave  her  a  chamber  above  the 
shop,  having  a  small  turret  in  the  corner  over 
hanging  the  street,  through  whose  window  of 
horn  one  might  see  in  both  directions  all  who 
passed  by  or  stopped  below  for  affairs  of  trade. 
In  the  chamber  was  a  bed  with  curtains,  a  prie- 
dieu  chair  with  cushions  on  which  were  stamped 
a  design  of  the  sun,  and  a  box  for   clothes,  of 
which  Passe  Rose  was  very  fond,  although  she 
had  none  to  put  into  it  except  when  she  was  in 
her  bed,  —a  want,  however,  which  Jeanne  soon 
supplied.     For  there  was  nothing  the  goodwife 
would   not   have   given   her,  even   to   a  name. 
This  name  — Theodora  — came  to  her  thought 
in  the  middle  of  the  night;  but  the  girl  would 
have   none  of   it,  and  declared   her   name  was 
Passe  Rose.     Perhaps  this  name  recalled  some 
vague  memories  of  Provence.     Certain  it  is  that 
when  she  passed  by,  it  was  as  a  breath  from  the 
land  of  orange,  and  olive,  and  rosemary.     The 
hues  of  the  Southern  Sea  were  in  her  eyes  and 


20  PASSE  ROSE. 

under  the  rose-brown  flush  of  her  skin;  the 
sound  of  its  waves  was  in  the  ripple  of  her 
laughter  ;  and  the  odor  of  samphire,  myrtle,  and 
lentisk,  glistening  wet  in  its  spray,  in  her  hair. 

Nothing  would  persuade  Mother  Jeanne,  as 
she  might  now  in  good  truth  call  herself,  that  all 
this  was  not  the  gift  of  God ;  and  when  Passe 
Rose  told  strange  stories  or  related  wild  adven 
tures,  Jeanne,  with  a  faith  undisturbed  by  such 
prattle  and  nonsense,  smiled. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  many  who  passed 
the  goldsmith's  shop  were  fain  to  gather  this 
rose,  and  that  many  a  gallant  would  have  given 
his  life  for  one  of  its  petals,  —  "  So  they  say," 
laughed  Passe  Rose,  knowing  also  that  when  the 
rose  drops  its  petals,  then  it  begins  to  fade.  In 
a  way  she  loved  them  all,  at  once  and  by  turns, 
and  so  impartially  that  one  would  as  soon  think 
to  be  angry  with  the  sun,  which  shines  upon  all, 
as  with  her.  At  all  events,  she  was  truthful  and 
sincere.  She  hated  when  she  hated  vigorously 
and  well,  and  laughed  when  she  laughed  from 
her  red  lips  to  her  sandaled  feet.  If  she  spat 
on  Friedgis's  bare  leg,  it  was  because  she  de 
sired  ardently  to  see  the  shrine  of  the  blessed 
St.  Servais ;  and  if  she  whispered  softly  in  his 
ear,  it  was  because  she  wished  very  much  for 
her  collar  of  gold.  She  wounded  pride  and  she 
flattered  self-love,  just  as  the  rain  disappoints 


PASSE  HOSE.  21 

and  the  sun  cheers,  as  it  were  in  the  very  course 
of  nature,  with  a  naturalness  and  good  faith  so 
complete  as  to  disarm  all  complaint.  If  selfish 
ness  had  gotten  hold  of  Passe  Rose  !  —  ah,  that 
would  have  been  a  different  matter.  Does  any 
one  call  the  sun  selfish,  even  when  he  hides  his 
face  ?  When  a  lover  tired  her,  Aie !  a'ie  !  a'ie  ! 
said  Passe  Rose,  and,  like  the  sun,  went  to  shine 
elsewhere. 

But  the  love  of  Jeanne  Passe  Rose  requited. 
Thus,  for  a  whole  year  she  hoarded  every  copper 
denier  in  her  chest,  till  one  morning  she  set  out 
with  three  silver  sous  in  her  crimson  purse,  to 
buy  the  marten's  fur  which  she  knew  the  dame 
desired  for  the  border  of  her  dress.  On  her  way 
she  met  Adelhaide,  sister  to  Robert,  Count  of 
Tours,  master  of  the  hunt  and  of  the  king's  sta 
bles  ;  and  this  lady  was  attired  so  richly  and 
had  so  great  a  retinue  with  her  that  at  the  sight 
of  such  splendor  the  three  silver  sous  of  Passe 
Rose  seemed  to  her  of  no  value.  But  after 
Adelhaide  had  passed  by,  Passe  Rose  laughed, 
pressing  the  pieces  together  in  her  hand,  and 
having  gotten,  by  fair  words  or  a  fair  face,  the 
worth  of  four  sous  for  three,  ran  home  singing. 
On  her  part,  the  goodwife  did  all  in  the  power 
of  love  to  spoil  Passe  Rose  ;  but  the  latter  pos 
sessed  too  sturdy  a  nature  to  be  far  diverted 
from  her  own  course,  —  sturdy  and  willowy, 


22  PASSE  ROSE. 

like  a  young  ash  in  the  wood,  which  sways  to  the 
wind,  but  grows  straight  upward  without  bend 
or  flaw. 

If  one  should  contrast  the  safe  and  quiet  life 
which  Passe  Rose  now  enjoyed  with  the  trou 
blous  period  of  her  early  years,  it  might  be 
thought  that  she  had  determined  to  close  the 
chapter  of  her  wandering  existence,  and  to  order 
the  remainder  of  her  days  in  sobriety.  For  with 
all  the  pleasures  of  roving,  hunger  and  cold  and 
harsh  words  had  not  been  wanting ;  and  like 
one  who,  fleeing  down  a  narrow  street  pursued 
by  enemies,  suddenly  perceives  an  open  door, 
and,  entering  quickly,  closes  it  upon  all  disqui 
etude,  so  Passe  Rose  had  left  all  pursuing  ills  at 
the  place  where  the  goldsmith  had  found  her. 
Such,  however,  is  human  nature,  that  no  sooner 
are  former  evils  passed  away  than  those  which 
are  present  call  to  mind  the  pleasures  which  dis 
appeared  with  them,  filling  the  heart  with  re 
grets  and  sighs.  Passe  Rose  was  not  discon 
tented,  but  in  her  new  condition  new  hopes  and 
ambitions  assailed  her.  She  had  put  aside  her 
mountebank's  dress  even  to  the  armlets  of  Greek 
coin  whose  jingle  made  once  such  pleasing  music 
in  her  ears ;  and  with  the  garments  which 
Jeanne  gave  her  she  had  put  on  the  disdain  for 
her  former  companions  which  every  good  citizen 
felt,  however  eagerly  they  might  flock  to  witness 


PASSE  ROSE.  23 

jugglers'  magic  or  feats  of  dancers'  skill.  Only, 
while  Jeanne  despised  their  mode  of  life  and  did 
not  hesitate  to  call  them  children  of  Satan,  Passe 
Rose  despised  their  condition.  As  to  their  mode 
of  life,  it  pleased  her  well,  for  liberty  was  its 
motto  ;  and  this  liberty  itself,  as  well  as  the  love 
of  it,  she  carried  in  with  her  to  her  retreat  when 
she  closed  the  door.  But  whatever  the  plans 
she  cherished  or  the  hopes  she  nourished,  her 
laugh  was  as  merry  and  her  hand  as  ready  as 
ever.  There  was  no  menial  labor  she  scorned 
to  do,  nor  any  courtly  service  she  hesitated  to 
demand.  Jeanne  herself  scarce  knew  when  to 
wonder  most :  whether  when,  in  the  kitchen, 
Passe  Rose  made  savory  pasties  of  cream  and 
pounded  almonds  and  pistachios,  or  when,  hav 
ing  put  on  her  favorite  dress,  fastened  close 
about  the  waist  and  wrists,  she  went  out  to  take 
the  air.  For  being  the  gift  of  God,  how  should 
she  know  the  best  flour  was  of  the  second  grind 
ing,  or  that  jelly  of  apple  was  the  better  for 
rosewater,  which  on  the  other  hand  impaired  the 
flavor  of  quince  ?  Moreover,  Passe  Rose  brought 
from  God  knows  where  new  inventions :  comfit 
of  purslane,  marchpane  of  honey  and  the  white 
of  eggs,  and  frumenty  with  poppy  seeds.  "  Who 
ever  heard  of  fennel  in  cheese !  "  Jeanne  ex 
claimed;  or,  "Balm  of  mint  in  the  soup,  in 
deed  !  "  she  cried,  opening  wide  her  eyes.  But 


24  PASSE  HOSE. 

Werdric  smacked  his  lips,  declaring  such  cheese 
and  such  broth  were  never  tasted  in  Maestricht 
before. 

As  for  the  manner  in  which  Passe  Rose  wore 
her  apparel,  it  was  not  strange  that  Jeanne 
wondered  ;  for  however  simple  it  was,  whether 
because  of  her  girlish  beauty  or  her  unconscious 
ness,  the  Lady  Adelha'ide  herself  was  not  so 
agreeable  to  the  sight.  So  that  while  the 
knowledge  Passe  Rose  had  of  household  af 
fairs  caused  Jeanne  surprise,  her  knowledge  of 
the  art  of  dressing  caused  Jeanne  fear.  For  it 
was  neither  right  nor  safe  that  the  daughter  of 
a  goldsmith,  selling  at  retail  for  the  worth  of 
two  sous,  should  have  a  finer  mien  than  the  sis 
ter  of  the  master  of  the  king's  horse.  Be  that 
as  it  may,  it  is  sure  that  Passe  Rose,  unworthy 
as  she  thought  the  condition  from  which  she  had 
escaped,  saw  none  above  her  to  which  she  might 
not  attain.  If  the  sunlight  is  not  altogether 
free,  yet  if  the  king's  window  be  open  it  will 
enter  without  leave.  Had  not  the  slave  Ingonda 
become  Clother's  wife  ?  Had  not  Haribert  of 
Paris  raised  Merofleda,  the  daughter  of  a  wool- 
comber  and  Theodehilda,  the  shepherdess,  to 
his  throne?  And  did  not  Hilperic,  king  of 
Neustria,  choose  Fredegonda  from  among  the 
women  of  the  royal  service,  and  marry  her  with 
the  ring  and  denarius,  according  to  the  laws  of 


PASSE  ROSE.  25 

the  Franks,  thus  making  her  his  queen?  So 
Passe  Rose,  when  she  walked  abroad,  without 
fixing  her  eyes  upon  any  individual  star,  saw 
them  all,  none  the  less,  and  the  songs  which  re 
lated  these  events  lingered  in  her  ear  longer 
than  the  chantings  of  the  monks  of  St.  Servais, 
which  sometimes  floated  down  from  the  abbey 
hill  among  the  busy  people  of  Maestricht.  Yet 
for  all  her  shortcomings  Jeanne's  love  for  her 
grew  with  the  years,  and  although  accurate  com 
parisons  are  impossible  in  view  of  the  uncer 
tainty  surrounding  her  previous  career,  it  is 
quite  likely  that  Passe  Rose  herself  improved 
vastly.  It  is  so  much  easier  to  begin  a  new  life 
with  new  friends  and  fresh  faces. 


III. 

So  curiously  in  this  world  are  trifles  linked 
to  things  of  moment  that  if  Passe  Rose  had  not 
known  somewhat  of  cookery  she  would  never 
have  been  imprisoned  with  Friedgis  in  the  abbey 
of  St.  Servais.  For  it  happened  one  morning, 
as  she  watched  the  spit  turning  before  the  fire, 
that  she  said  to  Jeanne :  — 

"  In  my  country  there  grows  an  herb,  in  the 
wet  places  of  the  wood,  very  fit  to  serve  with 
roasts  and  all  kinds  of  sauces." 


26  PASSE  ROSE. 

"  What  is  its  name  ?  "  asked  Jeanne,  at  that 
very  moment  preparing  the  basting. 

"  I  know  not  its  name,"  replied  Passe  Rose, 
"  but  I  know  it  well  when  I  see  it ;  and  if  thou 
likest,  to-morrow  we  will  search  for  it  in  the 
wood  beyond  the  river." 

And  although  Jeanne  had  great  fear  of  the 
wood  fays,  she  promised  to  go  the  following  day, 
after  exacting  from  Passe  Rose  the  pledge  that 
she  would  not  trouble  the  pools,  should  they 
chance  to  come  upon  a  wood  spring.  So  in  the 
early  morning  they  set  out,  with  an  osier  basket 
for  the  herb  and  a  vial  of  blessed  water  for  the 
fays. 

Nothing  was  sweeter  to  Passe  Rose  than  free 
dom.  When  the  gate  was  passed  and  the  walls 
of  the  town  were  behind  her,  she  was  as  one 
who  has  recovered  her  patrimony.  The  sunlight 
entered  at  every  pore ;  the  rills  running  under 
the  cresses  by  the  roadside  and  the  flowers  dis 
tilling  perfumes  in  the  shade  whispered  to  her, 
"  We  are  yours ;  "  and  she,  seeing  everything, 
hearing  everything,  answered  with  a  familiar  nod 
or  smile  all  these  signs  and  tokens,  like  a  propri 
etor  going  over  his  estates.  Jeanne  must  needs 
stop  to  inquire  of  every  fowler  they  met  the  price 
of  his  starlings,  and  whether  the  quail  were  yet 
full  fledged ;  of  the  fisherman  at  the  river-bank 
whether  any  pike  had  been  taken  in  his  net, 


PASSE  ROSE.  27 

and  what  barbels  would  fetch  a  pound ;  and  of 
the  miller,  whose  water-wheel  was  midway  on 
the  bridge,  what  was  the  grinding-tax  this  year. 
"  At  last !  "  cried  Passe  Rose,  when  all  these 
obstacles  were  passed.  "  Mother  of  God,  defend 
us  !  "  signed  Jeanne,  thinking  of  the  fays.  In 
deed,  at  the  border  of  the  forest  Jeanne  declared 
she  could  go  no  farther,  that  breath  failed  her, 
that  the  clouds  boded  rain,  —  in  short,  that  she 
was  no  longer  young  and  able  to  walk  such  a 
distance,  but  would  wait  in  the  open  field  till 
Passe  Rose  should  return.  So  the  latter,  who 
neither  lacked  breath  nor  feared  the  rain,  and 
would  not  be  dissuaded,  went  into  the  wood 
alone.  When  she  returned  her  basket  was 
empty,  her  cheeks  flushed  with  flame,  and  about 
her  neck  was  a  collar  of  gold. 

It  is  certainly  strange  that  Passe  Rose,  who: 
when  she  danced  before  Queen  HildegardeV 
neither  felt  abashed  nor  was  confused,  should 
stammer  and  cast  down  her  eyes  before  Jeanne, 
who  was  nothing  but  a  little  wrinkled  old 
woman,  with  a  vial  of  blessed  water  in  her 
pouch.  But  so  it  was,  and  at  the  questions 
which  assailed  her  she  faltered  and  turned 
away,  till  at  last  she  declared  boldly  that  the 
collar  was  given  her  by  a  fay.  Having  made 
this  assertion,  her  tongue  was  loosed  and  hesi 
tancy  disappeared  :  for  the  first  step  it  is  that 


28  PASSE  ROSE. 

costs ;  only  let  this  be  taken,  necessity  and  in 
vention  will  manage  the  rest. 

She  told  Jeanne  that  after  searching  far  and 
wide  she  came  to  a  spring  which  trickled  over 
a  mossy  stone  into  a  pool,  and  that  while  she 
sought  the  herb  about  the  water's  edge  she  saw 
a  golden  comb  (Oh,  Passe  Rose  !)  lying  among 
the  wet  leaves  of  an  ivy  branch.  No  sooner 
had  she  taken  it  in  her  hand  than  she  heard 
wailing  and  sobbing,  and,  looking  up,  saw  the 
fay,  with  no  other  garment  than  a  veil,  clasped 
about  the  waist  by  a  girdle  of  gold,  wringing  its 
hands,  and  beseeching  her  to  yield  up  the  comb. 
"  Then  said  I,"  continued  Passe  Rose,  '"If  I 
give  thee  the  comb,  thou  wilt  bewitch  me  with 
thy  breath.'  <  Nay,'  replied  she,  unloosing  her 
belt ;  4  only  give  me  my  comb,  and  thou  shalt 
have  my  girdle,  which  is  a  charm  against  all 
fairy  power  so  long  as  thou  hast  it  clasped  on 
thy  neck.'"  (Oh,  Passe  Rose!)  "'Give  me 
first  the  belt,  then,'  said  I.  So  she  gave  it,  and 
when  I  had  fastened  it  I  put  back  the  comb 
between  the  leaves  and  ran.  For  this  reason 
am  I  hot,  and  my  power  of  speech  is  gone." 

This  and  much  more  of  the  same  sort  she 
told  and  repeated  to  Jeanne,  till,  like  one  who 
sees  a  patch  of  shadow  afar  on  the  plain,  and 
at  one  moment  thinks  it  a  tower,  and  at  the 
next  is  ready  to  swear  it  to  be  a  tree,  she  began 


PASSE  ROSE. 


29 


to  waver  in  her  own  mind  between  the  false  and 
the  real,  almost  ready  to  put  faith  in  her  own 
words.  But  this  was  not  at  all  the  tale  she  told 
to  Friedgis;  for  just  as  the  sun  sometimes 
shines  fiercely  on  the  tower  till  every  line  and 
angle  of  its  stones  stands  out  among  the  trees, 
and  sometimes  with  mists  and  shadows  confuses 
tower  and  trees  together,  so  Passe  Rose  dis 
closed  to  Friedgis  what  she  had  concealed  from 
Jeanne;  and  as  sometimes,  shining  neither 
fiercely  nor  faintly,  but  obliquely,  the  sun  shoots 
a  slanting  ray  which  illumines  but  a  part  of  the 
tower,  and  leaves  the  rest  in  the  trees'  shadow, 
so  it  were  best  to  follow  Passe  Rose  herself  into 
the  wood,  lest,  trusting  only  to  what  she  revealed 
to  Friedgis,  some  doubt  should  still  linger  as  to 
what  there  transpired. 

Albeit  the  great  forest  lying  between  Maes- 
tricht  and  Aix  was  well  known  to  be  the  abode 
of  fays  (which  were  none  other  than  Frankish 
princesses  who  had  refused  the  religion  of 
Christ),  besides  dwarfs  even  more  venomous, 
and  although  the  spirit  of  Fastrada,  the  wicked 
queen  who  had  bewitched  the  heart  of  Karle, 
wandered  here  nightly  in  search  of  her  magic 
ring,  and  although  it  was  neither  Saturday  nor 
Sunday,  evil  days  for  all  evil  spirits,  yet  Passe 
Rose  entered  the  gloomy  shadow  of  the  trees 
fearlessly.  For  a  long  time  she  sought  faith- 


30  PASSE  ROSE. 

fully  for  the  herb  among  slender  stems  and  pow 
dery  leaves,  in  the  dark  places  where  the  wood- 
lilies  delight  to  grow,  under  the  junipers  and 
pines  whose  resinous  breath  the  violets  love,  in 
wet  patches  of  woolly  moss  wherein  her  feet  sank 
to  the  cross-bandage  of  her  sandals ;  lifting  every 
leaf  which  might  hide  her  quest,  turning  aside 
for  no  vine  which  barred  her  way,  till,  discour 
aged  in  her  search,  she  gave  it  over  altogether, 
and  began  to  fill  her  basket  with  beechnuts,  and 
seek  for  the  late  strawberries  nodding  among 
feathery  shoots  of  grass  and  mould  of  last  year's 
leaves. 

While  thus  engaged  she  heard  the  faint  blast 
of  a  horn,  and,  setting  down  her  basket,  listened. 
Presently  she  heard  it  again,  nearer  this  time, 
and  now  its  mellow  echoes  were  lost  in  the  quick, 
short  bark  of  hounds.  Passe  Rose  began  to  lis 
ten  in  good  earnest,  half  rising  to  her  knees  and 
sitting  back  on  her  heels,  her  lips  parted  as  if 
they  could  assist  her  ears  to  locate  the  place 
whence  the  sounds  came.  The  intermittent  cry 
of  the  dogs  became  more  distinct,  the  blast  of 
the  horn  was  mingled  with  the  shouts  of  men, 
and  in  the  pauses  came  the  sharp  snap  of  a  dead 
branch  or  the  crash  of  young  summer  trees,  till 
the  beat  of  her  heart  grew  loud  and  fast  in  her 
ears,  like  the  muffled  sound  of  the  grouse's  wing 
when  he  calls  to  his  mate  from  the  thick  copse. 


PASSE  ROSE.  31 

Tales  of  the  fierce  urus  and  savage  boar  rose  to 
her  mind,  and,  overturning  her  basket  of  nuts, 
she  sprang  to  her  feet,  seeing  already  in  every 
dark  thicket  the  cruel  tusk  or  foaming  mouth  of 
some  desperate  beast,  and  bewildered  by  the 
gathering  storm  of  sounds.  So  near  were  they 
now,  and  on  every  side,  that  if  she  had  stopped 
to  weigh  the  evidence  she  would  not  have  been 
able  to  take  a  single  step  ;  but  fear  got  the  bet 
ter  of  reason,  and  not  knowing  whither  she  went, 
holding  fast,  in  her  terror,  to  her  empty  basket, 
she  fled  between  bush  and  tree  wherever  an  open 
space  beckoned  her. 

Whether  because  St.  Martin,  upon  whom  she 
called  only  on  grave  matters,  was  otherwise  oc 
cupied,  and  St.  Servais  liked  not  to  be  thought 
second  even  to  St.  Martin  himself,  Passe  Rose, 
invoking  the  aid  of  each  alternately,  thought  her 
self  abandoned  by  both  ;  for  at  the  very  instant 
that  a  crash  in  the  thicket  before  her  drained 
the  last  drop  of  blood  from  her  heart  and  all  re 
maining  strength  from  her  limbs,  her  feet  caught 
in  a  trailing  vine,  and  she  fell  headlong.  But 
as  often,  when  the  saints  abandon  us,  we  dis 
cover  some  hidden  power  of  our  own,  so  Passe 
Rose,  caught  like  a  sheep  by  the  fleece  in  a 
thorn-bush,  and  expecting  nothing  but  certain 
death,  bethought  herself  suddenly  of  the  knife 
she  carried  to  loosen  the  roots  of  the  herbs,  and, 


32  PASSE  ROSE. 

grasping  it  tightly  in  her  hand,  closed  her  fin 
gers  about  the  haft  with  the  nervous  determina 
tion  of  one  brought  to  bay.  Great,  then,  was 
her  surprise,  on  lifting  her  head  from  the  ferns 
and  stems  where  she  had  fallen,  to  see  a  youth, 
mounted  on  a  black  horse,  and  gazing  at  her 
with  a  surprise  equal  to  her  own. 

This  youth  was  no  other  than  Gui  of  Tours, 
son  of  Robert,  Count  of  Tours,  and  master  of 
the  king's  hunt.  This,  indeed,  Passe  Rose  did 
not  know,  but  certain  other  things  she  discov 
ered  in  less  time  than  they  can  be  told,  namely : 
that  he  was  of  middle  height,  neither  too  heavy 
nor  too  slender,  sitting  well  on  his  horse,  and 
light  of  foot ;  that  the  hand  which  held  the  rein 
could  hurl  a  spear  adroitly  and  lance  a  javelin 
far ;  and  that  neither  peril,  nor  thirst,  nor  hun 
ger  could  turn  his  step  aside  from  what  his  heart 
desired.  All  this  she  saw  while  the  youth  was 
dismounting  from  his  horse  and  approaching 
her. 

"  Art  thou  hurt  ?  "  he  inquired  eagerly. 
"Nay,"  she  replied,  regaining  her  feet,  and 
shaking  the  leaves  and  mould  from  her  dress  as  a 
bird  shakes  the  dew  from  its  wings. 

"  Surely  thou  art  hurt,"  he  repeated,  stooping 
to  look  into  her  downcast  eyes,  for  her  cheeks 
were  flushed  with  running  and  her  bosom 
heaved. 


PASSE  ROSE.  33 

"  Nay ;  give  me  my  basket,  and  let  me  go." 

Such  liquid  eyes  he  had  not  seen  nor  heard 
such  soft  Roman  speech  since  he  marched 
against  Arigisus,  through  the  orchards  of  Cam 
pania. 

"  Go  thou  shalt,  and  where  thou  wilt,  but  I 
with  thee  ;  for  if  the  stag  turns  there  will  be 
need  of  my  spear." 

"  Thou  wilt  lose  the  hunt,"  objected  Passe 
Rose,  recovering  her  composure,  and  fixing  upon 
him  her  brown  eyes.  His  were  an  honest  blue, 
and  his  skin  fresh  as  an  apple,  without  speck  or 
flaw. 

"  I  will  not  leave  thee  so  for  all  the  stags  in 
France !  "  exclaimed  the  youth  hotly. 

"  Set  me,  then,  on  thy  horse,"  laughed  Passe 
Rose,  "  for  I  think  my  ankle  is  sprained." 

Alarm  had  died  out  of  her  eyes  and  confusion 
from  her  voice,  but  the  flush  that  disappeared 
from  her  cheek  seemed  to  rise  on  his.  He  called 
the  horse  to  his  side,  and,  holding  the  stirrup  till 
her  foot  was  secure,  would  have  lifted  her  to  the 
saddle ;  but  she,  grasping  with  one  hand  his 
lancewood  spear,  sprang  lightly  to  her  seat,  while 
the  horse,  docile  enough  before,  feeling  now  a 
rider  on  his  back,  and  hearing  the  noise  of  the 
hunt  drifting  away,  began  to  chafe  and  tremble. 

"Never  fear,"  said  Passe  Rose  assuringly. 
"  Only  do  thou  hold  the  bridle,  for  the  branches 
are  low." 


34  PASSE  ROSE. 

Urged  forward  by  the  impatience  of  the  horse, 
the  youth  had  all  he  could  do  to  check  its  speed 
»nd  guide  its  way  through  the  thick  wood,  while 
Passe  Rose,  bending  now  this  way,  now  that,  to 
avoid  the  branches,  smiled  whenever  he  turned 
to  look  at  her  winsome  face  and  lissome  form. 

Mastering  at  length  the  confusion  which  tied 
his  tongue,  "  What  is  thy  name  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Passe  Rose.     And  thine  ?  " 

Either  her  question  was  so  sudden  or  her 
name  so  strange  that  he  stammered  over  his  own 
in  reply ;  and  then  there  was  silence  till  the 
wood  began  to  open,  the  sunlight  to  enter  more 
freely,  and  between  the  trees  appeared  the  fields 
of  grain. 

It  was  then  that  Passe  Rose  bethought  herself 
of  Jeanne,  and  sliding  from  the  saddle  to  the 
ground  said,  "  My  mother  is  here  waiting,  and 
the  way  is  clear.  Give  me  my  basket,  and  I 
will  give  thee  thy  spear  ;  "  and  holding  it  out  in 
her  hand,  "  I  thank  thee  much,"  she  added. 

"  Where  shall  I  find  thee  again?  "  asked  Gui, 
recovering  his  speech  at  the  thought  of  seeing 
her  no  more. 

"It  is  very  hard,  —  the  world  is  so  wide," 
laughed  Passe  Rose. 

"  Every  bee  that  roves  in  the  wood  has  some 
where  a  nest"  — 

"  Which  he  hides  lest  the  wild  bear  steal  the 
comb,"  interrupted  Passe  Rose. 


PASSE  ROSE.  35 

"  I  am  no  wild  bear  for  thee,"  the  youth  retorted 
impetuously,  unclasping  at  the  same  time  the 
bracelet  he  wore  on  his  arm.  "  But  if  ever  thou 
hast  need  of  the  bear's  claws,  send  me  this  token, 
and  by  the  faith  of  Gui  of  Tours  "  — 

"It  is  too  large,"  interrupted  Passe  Rose 
again,  looking  from  her  arm  to  the  band  of  gold. 

"  For  thine  arm,  indeed,  but  see  !  "  and  pass 
ing  the  collar  about  her  neck,  he  essayed  to 
fasten  the  clasp  at  her  throat. 

Now  it  was  impossible  to  fasten  this  clasp 
while  looking  into  Passe  Rose's  eyes,  and  for  this 
reason,  doubtless,  Passe  Rose,  losing  patience  at 
his  clumsy  fingers,  pushed  them  aside,  and  clasped 
it  deftly  with  her  own ;  so  that  while  the  king's 
captain,  the  point  of  whose  spear  could  find  the 
heart  of  the  stag  in  flight,  was  marveling  that 
the  clasp  would  not  hold,  the  eyes  into  which  he 
looked  disappeared,  and  Passe  Rose  herself  van 
ished  with  the  rapidity  of  a  startled  deer. 


IV. 

Unknown  to  herself,  the  account  which  Passe 
Rose  gave  to  Jeanne  of  the  acquisition  of  her 
collar  had  made  such  an  impression  upon  her 
mind  that  on  recovering  from  her  swoon  in  the 
porter's  cell,  being  still  afraid  but  not  yet  remem- 


86  PASSE  ROSE. 

bering  why,  conscious  that  something  had  trans 
pired  but  not  yet  recollecting  what,  she  mur 
mured,  "  This  had  not  happened  had  my  collar 
not  been  lost."     Then   seeing  it  was   Friedgis, 
and  not  Jeanne,  who  bent  above  her,  a  faint 
blush  rose  to   her   cheek  and  a  smile   passed 
through  her  eyes.     Whether  she  smiled  at  mis 
taking  Friedgis  for  Jeanne  and  blushed  at  re 
peating  a  lie  to  no  purpose,  or  blushed  to  find 
herself  alone  with  Friedgis  and  smiled  at  being 
entrapped  in  her  own  invention,  there  is  no  way 
to  know ;  for  immediately  on  raising  her  head 
from  the  couch  on  which  she  lay,  the  room  began 
to  swim  once  more,  and,  falling  back  again,  both 
the  smile  and  the  blush  vanished. 

"  It  is  better  to  lie  still,"  said  Friedgis,  watch 
ing  her.     "  There  is  nothing  to  fear." 

Passe  Rose,  finding  that  by  obeying  this  in 
junction  she  could  open  her  eyes  without  dizzi 
ness,  lay  still,  examining  Friedgis  attentively. 
"I  was  not  afraid,"  she  said  presently. 
Friedgis  smiled. 

" 1  was  only  startled,"  she  added,  continuing 
her  examination. 

With  the  return  of  her  strength  came  the 
pangs  of  curiosity.  A  hundred  thoughts  and 
questions  succeeded  each  other.  Who  is  he? 
Whence  does  he  come  ?  What  grave  eyes  he  has  I 
How  blue  the  veins  on  his  arms,  —  and  what 


PASSE  ROSE.  37 

arms !  What  can  he  wish  with  my  collar  ? 
What  does  he  think  of  me  ?  Are  there  no  women 
in  Saxony  ?  And  although  these  arms  had  han 
dled  her  roughly,  the  eyes  imparted  a  sense  of 
security.  A  feeling  of  confidence,  mingled  with 
a  desire  to  strike  a  spark  from  the  steel,  possessed 
her.  She  had  seen  many  of  the  Saxon  prisoners 
dispersed  in  bands  throughout  the  kingdom,  and 
in  spite  of  his  shaven  head  had  guessed  his  nation 
ality  aright. 

Thus  they  gazed  at  one  another  in  silence. 
For  the  first  time  the  Saxon  looked  into  the  eyes 
of  the  South,  —  limpid,  eloquent,  idolatrous. 
Frisia  had  none  such  among  its  fens  and  snows, 
under  its  sad  northern  sky.  Had  the  blood  re 
turning  to  her  cheeks  burst  its  channels,  that  it 
should  suffuse  itself,  like  the  violet  lustre  of  the 
sea,  under  the  transparent  skin  ? 

Eising  from  his  seat,  Friedgis  took  a  cup  from 
a  sort  of  embrasure  in  the  thick  walls,  and  filled 
it  from  a  black  jar.  "  Drink,"  he  said,  offering 
it  to  her. 

"  Great  northern  wolf !  "  said  Passe  Eose  to 
herself,  sitting  up  on  the  edge  of  the  couch,  and 
looking  over  the  rim  of  the  cup  as  she  drank, 
"  what  kind  eyes  thou  hast !  " 

"  Hast  thou  my  collar  ?  "  she  asked,  returning 
the  cup.  "  I  must  go." 

He  took  it  from  his  tunic  and  handed  it  to  her, 


38  PASSE  ROSE. 

draining  at  a  draught  the  hydromel  left  in  the 
cup,  while  she  fastened  the  collar  about  her  neck. 

Having  adjusted  the  collar  and  shaken  out  her 
dress,  Passe  Rose  went  to  the  door. 

"  Thou  canst  not  pass  that  way,"  said  he ;  "  it 
is  barred  on  the  other  side."  He  looked  to  see 
the  color  die  out  of  her  cheek  again ;  but  Passe 
Rose  only  opened  wide  her  eyes  as  the  remem 
brance  of  what  had  taken  place  returned,  and, 
resuming  her  seat  on  the  couch,  looked  gravely 
into  his  face. 

"What  is  to  be  done?  "she  asked  energet 
ically. 

For  an  answer  Friedgis  moved  aside  a  wooden 
bench  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  and,  lying  on 
his  back  upon  the  floor,  pushed  with  his  feet  one 
of  the  large  stones  forming  the  outer  wall.  The 
stone,  from  which  the  adjoining  cement  had  been 
loosened,  receded  slowly,  and  suddenly  fell  with 
a  dull  sound  on  the  ground  without,  leaving  a 
black  hole  through  which  the  night  air  entered. 

"Is  it  far?"  asked  Passe  Rose,  who  needed 
no  explanation  of  this  proceeding. 

"  The  height  of  a  man." 

"  Do  thou  go  first,"  she  said,  peering  on  her 
knees  through  the  opening,  and  hearing  indeed 
the  rustle  of  the  leaves  without. 

Sitting  on  the  floor  in  front  of  her,  Friedgis 
made  no  reply  to  this  proposition.  His  eyes 


PASSE  ROSE.  39 

were  fixed  upon  the  necklace,  and  Passe  Rose 
saw  plainly  that  she  had  first  to  answer  some 
questions.  To  this,  however,  she  offered  no  re 
monstrance,  merely  sliding  from  her  knees  into 
a  sitting  posture,  and  leaning  her  head  against 
the  wall.  She  had  110  intention  of  repeating  the 
story  of  the  golden  comb,  much  as  she  prided 
herself  upon  the  sharpness  of  the  bargain  she 
drove  with  the  fay ;  but  she  did  meditate  between 
the  truth  and  some  new  invention,  better  suited 
to  the  occasion. 

"  What  is  that  to  thee  ?  "  she  said,  answering 
his  look. 

Friedgis  seemed  to  hesitate  between  prudence 
and  desire. 

"  Is  it  thine,  perchance  ?  "  asked  Passe  Rose 
ironically,  urging  him  gently  on. 

He  looked  at  her  distrustfully  for  a  moment ; 
then  rose  to  his  feet,  walking  slowly  to  and  fro 
in  the  narrow  room  without  paying  any  heed  to 
her,  as  if  turning  over  some  serious  question  in 
his  mind.  The  feeble  flame  floating  on  the  oil 
scarce  reached  Passe  Rose.  One  would  not  have 
seen  her  at  all  but  for  a  gleam  which  flashed  now 
and  then  in  the  corner,  from  the  polished  surface 
of  the  jewel,  when  she  moved.  She  knew  that 
she  had  only  to  wait ;  but  it  taxed  her  patience 
sorely  that  a  man  should  dally  and  turn  like  a 
sluggish  stream  in  the  meadow,  which  is  sure 


40  PASSE  ROSE. 

after  all  to  come  to  the  sea.  For  Passe  Rose 
made  up  her  mind  without  delay,  —  like  a  moun 
tain  brook  that  leaps  straight  out  from  the  crest 
of  wood,  and  shoots  the  cliff  at  a  single  bound. 

Suddenly,  when  near  her,  the  Saxon  stopped. 

"  Hast  thou  seen  the  sea  ?  "  he  asked  abruptly. 

She  nodded  assent. 

"  But  thou  knowest  not  its  boundaries.  Be 
yond  Strandt  there  is  the  sea.  Beyond  Fosset- 
island  —  the  sea.  Beyond  Anglia  —  still  the  sea. 
Will  the  keel  which  follows  the  north  wind  along 
the  sands  of  Frisia  return  again  to  its  haven  in 
the  Elbe,  like  a  swallow  following  the  lake's 
margin  ?  Surely  its  waves  have  space  enough 
wherein  to  sport.  Wherefore,  then,  are  they  so 
greedy,  that  they  should  call  to  the  winds,  say 
ing,  4  Come !  here  is  a  green  land  glad  with 
flocks:  let  us  devour  it'?  Then  the  winds 
gather  the  mist  maidens,  the  waves  hurl  them 
selves  upon  the  coast,  the  rivers,  beaten  back, 
overflow,  the  fields  become  a  marsh,  the  flowers 
swim,  the  trees  rock,  and  the  sea,  rejoicing  in 
their  fall,  covers  all  things." 

Passe  Rose  from  her  corner  regarded  him 
with  increasing  interest.  What  had  this  to  do 
with  her  collar  ?  Moreover,  the  sea  which  she 
knew  did  not  behave  in  this  manner. 

"  It  is  thus  thy  people  have  wasted  Saxony. 
Is  the  bridge  of  heaven  so  small  that  they  can- 


PASSE  ROSE.  41 

not  breathe,  —  that  they  must  creep  from  the 
Rohr  to  the  Weser,  and  overflow  the  Weser  to 
the  Elbe  ?  The  grass  which  the  flocks  cropped 
is  soaked  with  blood,  the  plains  smoke,  the 
altars  of  the  gods  are  thrown  down.  Of  what 
avail  the  gods,  if  they  do  not  hear !  Henceforth 
they  are  nothing  to  me.  Does  Freya  listen  ? 
Does  Odin  see  ?  " 

"  Peste,"  thought  Passe  Rose,  carried  away 
by  this  eloquence,  "  it  is  true." 

"If  I  return  thither,  who  will  say  to  me 
4  Brother,'  or  <  Friend  '  ?  The  people  are  scattered 
as  leaves,  the  sword  is  broken,  and  Frankish  wo 
men  wear  the  jewels  of  the  Saxon  maidens." 

"  I  am  no  Frank !  "  exclaimed  Passe  Rose  in 
dignantly,  and  coloring  under  his  gaze.  "My 
collar  is  no  spoil,  but  a  free  gift.  If  it  is 
thine  "  —  She  unclasped  it  quickly,  and  held 
it  out  to  him. 

"  Tell  me  whence  thou  hast  it,"  replied  Fried- 
gis  disdainfully,  "  that  I  may  find  her  to  whom 
it  belonged." 

Passe  Rose  had  to  all  appearances  anticipated 
this  refusal,  for  she  was  already  refastening  the 
collar  about  her  neck.  Her  fingers  proved  as 
clumsy  as  those  of  Gui  in  the  wood,  and  thu-s 
occupied  she  had  time  to  reflect  upon  her  an 
swer.  Living  with  the  goldsmith,  who  had  ex 
amined  the  fay's  girdle  and  pronounced  it  of 


42  PASSE  ROSE. 

Greek  workmanship,  she  had  devised  a  very 
natural  explanation  of  the  manner  in  which  it 
came  into  her  possession ;  but  being  of  a  gen 
erous  nature,  which  opened  readily  at  the  sight 
of  misfortune,  and  having  a  devouring  curiosity 
to  reach  the  bottom  of  all  mysteries,  she  put 
this  temptation  aside,  and  answered  honestly 
that  she  had  found  it  in  the  wood  of  Hesbaye. 
Thereupon  she  related  how  she  had  gone  thither 
to  gather  herbs  on  a  day  when  the  king  hunted  ; 
and  how  one  of  those  who  followed  the  hunt, 
being  thrown  from  his  horse,  which  fell  in  a 
thorn  thicket,  had  left  the  collar  on  the  ground, 
it  having  doubtless  been  loosed  by  the  fall ;  and 
that  she,  hastening  homeward  from  the  place 
where  she  lay  concealed,  had  seen  it  glisten 
ing  among  the  leaves.  On  finishing  her  tale, 
Passe  Rose  leaned  back  against  the  wall  in  the 
shadow. 

Friedgis  looked  at  her  no  longer  ;  disappoint 
ment  had  succeeded  the  interest  with  which  he 
had  first  listened,  and  he  turned  away. 

"  Is  the  maid  of  thy  kin  ?  "  asked  Passe  Rose, 
watching  him. 

He  turned  again,  and  their  eyes  met. 

"  Aie  !  "  she  cried,  leaning  forward  and  clap 
ping  her  hands  ;  "  maid  or  wife,  thou  lovest  her 
well."  The  Saxon  frowned,  but  Passe  Rose  saw 
only  the  color  which  rose  to  his  cheek.  "  Was 


PASSE  ROSE.  43 

she  also  made  prisoner  with  thee  ?  "  she  asked 
eagerly.  "  Where  sawest  thou  her  last  ?  " 

"  At  Ehresberg,  where  the  spoil  was  divided." 
He  had  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  and 
covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

"  At  Ehresberg  ? "  repeated  Passe  Eose. 
"Aye," — prolonging  the  word  with  a  sympa 
thetic  sigh,  and  nodding  in  token  that  she  under 
stood  everything.  "  And  then  —  ye  were  scat 
tered  as  leaves."  Suddenly  her  face  kindled. 
"  Wouldst  thou  know  where  the  maid  is  ?  "  She 
had  risen  to  her  feet,  and  touched  him  on  the 
shoulder.  He  lifted  his  head,  looking  at  her  in 
credulously.  "  Listen.  There  is  a  blind  woman 
who  sits  in  the  porch  of  the  church  of  St.  Sebas 
tian,  of  whom  the  people  say  that  she  hath  power 
to  see  what  those  who  have  eyes  cannot  discover, 
and  that  for  a  copper  piece  she  will  tell  in  good 
Latin  speech  whatever  one  desires  to  know. 
Tell  me  only  the  maid's  name,  for  I  have  two 
silver  sous  in  my  chest  "  — 

He  hesitated,  and  the  eager  expression  on  her 
face  changed  to  one  of  disappointment,  the  red 
lips  pouted  disdainfully,  and,  shrugging  her 
shoulders,  she  was  about  to  turn  away,  when 
Friedgis  seized  her  by  the  arm. 

"  Stay !    Her  name  is  Rothilde." 

"  Rothilde  ?  "  repeated  Passe  Rose  softly  un 
der  her  breath ;  then  turning  full  upon  him  her 


44  PASSE  ROSE. 

large  eyes,  "  I  like  thee  well,"  she  said,  with  a 
candor  so  sincere  that  the  Saxon's  heart  warmed 
towards  her.  "Thy  hand  is  heavy,  and  thou 
shoulderedst  me  yesterday  as  I  were  a  miller's 
sack,  but  I  believe  thee  as  I  would  not  the  prior 
himself,  and  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Passe  Rose  I 
will  not  fail  thee.  Look !  "  she  exclaimed,  draw 
ing  a  small  dagger  from  her  bosom.  "  When  I 
came  for  the  collar  I  said,  4 1  will  have  mine 
own,  though  it  be  in  the  wolf's  den.'  Take  it; 
with  thee  I  have  no  use  for  it;  keep  it  till  I 
come  again." 

Friedgis  looked  at  her  in  amazement.  There 
was  not  a  trace  of  coquetry  in  her  manner. 

"  Thou  art  not  afraid." 

"  True,"  she  replied,  replacing  the  dagger  in 
her  dress,  as  she  recollected  the  lonely  road  from 
the  abbey  to  the  town.  "Give  me  now  thy 
cord." 

"  There  is  no  need.  Hold  my  hand,  and  thy 
feet  will  touch  the  ground." 

"  But  the  stone,"  said  Passe  Rose. 

He  loosed  the  cord  from  his  waist,  and  with 
out  further  delay  the  girl  slid,  feet  foremost, 
through  the  opening,  holding  fast  to  his  hand. 

"  For  whom  didst  thou  make  this  hole  ?  "  she 
asked,  as  she  was  about  to  disappear. 

"The  wolf  has  two  holes  to  his  den,"  replied 
Friedgis. 


PASSE  ROSE.  45 

Passe  Rose  laughed.  "  Let  go  thy  claws,  — 
my  feet  touch,"  —  and  he  loosed  her  hands. 

She  secured  the  rope  about  the  stone  that  he 
might  draw  it  up  in  its  place,  and  while  thus 
occupied  imitated  softly  the  note  of  the  cuckoo. 

"  Didst  thou  hear  the  cuckoo  calling  in  the 
wood?"  she  whispered,  standing  tiptoe  on  the 
stone.  "  Listen  for  it  again  in  three  days'  time. 
But  stay  thou  here.  They  have  shaved  thy 
head ;  the  next  time  they  will  slit  thine  ears. 
Farewell." 

Then  he  heard  the  sound  of  her  feet  running 
on  the  road. 

V. 

To  keep  her  dagger  company,  Passe  Rose 
carried  a  key,  which  gave  her  infinite  trouble ; 
for  the  former  was  slender  and  admirably  con 
cealed  under  the  fold  of  her  garment,  whereas 
the  latter  —  although  it  opened  only  the  small 
door  into  the  garden,  under  which  Jeanne  her 
self,  who  was  both  short  and  fat,  stooped  in  pass 
ing  —  was  of  extraordinary  size,  and  hidden 
with  difficulty.  Having  locked  this  door  be 
hind  her,  on  her  return  from  the  abbey,  and 
entered  the  kitchen  softly,  she  hung  the  key  on 
the  peg,  that  the  boy  who  drove  the  geese  to  the 
fields  might  find  it  in  the  morning.  She  even 


46  PASSE  ROSE. 

looked  into  the  adjoining  apartment,  a  sort  of 
shed  filled  with  straw  and  hay,  where  the  lad 
slept  with  the  donkeys,  to  see  that  he  slept  well, 
and,  being  satisfied  of  this  by  his  breathing, 
closed  the  door  carefully  and  went  to  her  own 
chamber. 

Jeanne's  garden  lay  to  the  south,  and  was 
separated  from  the  street  by  a  wall  nearly  hid 
den  within  by  the  plum-trees,  which,  trained 
against  its  surface,  seemed  all  to  be  vying  with 
each  other  as  to  which  should  first  peep  over 
the  top  to  discover  what  was  without.  At  the 
farther  extremity  the  wall  was  pierced  by  a 
large  gate,  with  double  doors,  leading  to  the 
market-place  in  front  of  the  church  of  St.  Se 
bastian,  whose  tower  threw  its  shadow  into  the 
garden,  and  thus  furnished  Jeanne  an  excellent 
clock  for  nearly  half  the  day.  "  It  is  time  to 
put  the  soup  on  the  fire,  —  the  cabbages  have 
got  the  sun,"  she  would  say;  by  which  she 
meant  it  was  nearly  ten,  and  that  the  hour  when 
all  good  citizens  had  their  dinner  was  near  at 
hand.  The  remaining  side  of  the  garden  was 
bordered  by  houses  whose  windows  overlooked 
the  entire  inclosure,  much  to  Jeanne's  discom 
fort;  for  though  she  not  infrequently  gossiped 
with  her  neighbors,  she  liked  not  to  be  under 
their  observance ;  so  that  to  escape  this  she  had 
caused  to  be  planted  on  this  side  a  row  of  wild 


PASSE  ROSE.  47 

carnelian  cherry-trees,  which,  in  time,  not  only 
yielded  excellent  fruit,  but  also  interrupted  her 
neighbors'  view,  while  in  no  way  intercepting 
their  gossip. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  both  Werdric  and 
Jeanne  made  good  all  observance  of  Lent  and 
holy-days  by  plenary  indulgence  the  rest  of  the 
year.  "  Of  what  use  are  fine  garments,"  said 
Jeanne,  "  except  it  be  for  the  priest  who  serves 
God  at  the  altar?  They  neither  warm  the 
body  better  than  coarse  ones,  nor  preserve  the 
health  ;  neither  can  they  be  taken  into  the  other 
world.  But  God  hath  provided  all  manner  of 
food  to  nourish  his  creatures."  Passe  Rose, 
who,  in  the  course  of  the  many  vicissitudes  of 
her  fortune,  had  often  eaten  bread  of  millet  and 
even  of  beechnuts  with  relish,  did  not  fail  to 
appreciate  the  unending  supply  of  soft  loaves, 
kneaded  with  milk  and  butter,  which  came  from 
Jeanne's  oven;  for  the  latter  not  only  made 
those  pasties  with  yeast  which  could  not  be  had 
of  the  public  baker,  but  also  baked  her  loaves 
over  the  embers  of  her  own  hearth,  having  an 
oven  expressly  for  this  purpose,  in  addition  to 
the  iron  tripod  over  the  fire  on  the  earthen  floor 
of  her  kitchen.  Indeed,  it  was  the  pleasantest 
thing  in  the  world  to  sit  in  the  morning  sun,  as 
Passe  Rose  was  doing  the  day  after  her  adven 
ture  in  the  abbey,  and  watch  the  good  dame  as 


48  PASSE  ROSE. 

she  went  about  her  matin  duties.  The  kitchen 
projected  into  the  yard,  and,  the  wooden  parti 
tion  between  the  posts  supporting  the  roof  being 
removed  during  the  summer,  there  was  no  lack 
of  fragrant  air  from  the  garden.  The  cherries 
shon,e  among  the  dark  leaves,  and  the  plums 
made  a  purple  mist  against  the  wall.  Little 
birds  hopped  boldly  up  the  path  leading  from  the 
gate,  on  one  side  of  which  stretched  lines  of  cab 
bage  and  shallot,  beet-root  and  parsley,  while  on 
the  other  was  a  pleasance  of  grass  growing  lux 
uriously  in  the  shade  of  the  cherry-trees.  Under 
the  eaves  hung  branches  of  sweet  herbs ;  within, 
on  the  shelves,  were  apples  and  plums  dried  in 
the  oven  for  winter  use ;  on  the  walls  shone 
vessels  of  iron  and  copper  ;  and  from  the  pot  on 
the  tripod,  or  the  spit  attached  to  its  legs,  came 
always  some  smell  so  savory  that  the  pigs  in  the 
street  without  paused  to  sniff  the  air. 

Jeanne,  intent  upon  the  contents  of  her  stew- 
pan,  would  certainly  have  been  astonished  could 
she  have  known  the  projects  which  filled  the 
small  head  of  Passe  Rose.  Nothing  is  so  easily 
forgotten  as  that  gay  pageant  of  dreams  which 
troop  like  an  army  with  music  and  banners 
through  the  mind  of  the  young.  When  the 
music  is  hushed  and  the  banners  no  longer  flut 
ter,  it  is  almost  in  vain  that  any  one  tries  to  re 
call  the  display ;  its  figures  are  scarce  more 


PASSE  ROSE.  49 

than  dumb,  colorless  ghosts,  so  that  one  doubts 
if  ever  they  were  anything  else.  If  once  they 
had  witched  the  mind  of  Jeanne,  in  the  growth 
of  her  girdle  she  had  clean  forgotten  them. 
Passe  Eose,  on  the  contrary,  at  the  very  instant 
Jeanne,  seasoned  the  stew,  was  listening  intently 
to  the  dream  music  and  watching  the  dream 
banners.  Neither  assisting  Jeanne  nor  busying 
herself  with  spinning,  as  was  her  wont,  she  sat 
idly  clasping  her  knees  with  her  hands  and  gaz 
ing  at  the  church  tower.  So  still  was  she  that 
the  little  birds  hopped  nearer  and  nearer,  and, 
after  inspecting  her  from  all  sides,  and  conclud 
ing  that  she  was  no  more  to  be  feared  than  the 
statue  over  the  church  portal,  would  certainly 
have  flown  to  her  knee  or  shoulder,  had  not  a 
wooden  shutter  in  an  adjoining  house  opened 
suddenly,  and  a  voice,  which  caused  Passe  Rose 
to  turn  her  head,  cried,  — 

"  Neighbor  Jeanne,  hast  thou  heard  the  news 
from  the  abbey  ?  " 

Jeanne,  seeing  that  it  was  Marethruda,  the 
wife  of  the  notary,  ran  to  the  wall  beneath  the 
window,  her  spoon  in  her  hand,  while  Passe 
Rose  listened. 

"  Nay,  what  has  happened  ?  "  said  Jeanne. 

"The  abbot  has  recovered" — replied  Mare 
thruda. 

"  Praise  be  to  God  and  the  blessed  martyr  I  " 


50  PASSE  ROSE. 

interrupted  Jeanne.  "  When  did  the  fever 
leave  him  ?  " 

"  It  wa3  no  fever  at  all,"  rejoined  the  other. 
"  Have  patience,"  for  Jeanne  was  on  the  point 
of  interrupting  her  again.  "  As  thou  knowest, 
the  blessed  saint  came  not  at  once  to  his  aid  ; 
so  that  after  the  relics  were  brought  from  below 
and  mass  was  said,  all  withdrew  except  two  who 
watched  beside  him,  praying.  Towards  mid 
night  one  of  these  perceived  that  the  abbot 
moved  his  lips  whenever,  in  his  prayer,  he  re 
peated  the  name  of  Christ  our  Lord,  and,  think 
ing  he  would  speak,  laid  his  ear  to  the  abbot's 
mouth.  No  sooner  had  he  done  this  than  he 
heard  a  most  horrible  hissing,  as  of  fat  on  the 
coals"  — 

"  Mercy  of  God  !  "  ejaculated  Jeanne. 

"  Amazed  at  this,  he  asked  the  abbot  what  he 
desired,  and  the  brother  with  him  came  also, 
asking  the  same  question.  Then  a  voice,  very 
harsh  and  not  at  all  like  to  the  abbot's  replied, 
4  Abbot  I  am  none,  but  a  satellite  of  Satan,  who 
has  given  me  orders  to  torment  the  souls  of  all 
who  love  justice  and  pity  the  poor.  To  this  end 
have  I  power  to  enter  their  bodies,  or  take  upon 
me  any  form  of  man  or  of  woman.'  Then  they 
ordered  the  demon,  in  the  name  of  the  saint,  to 
come  out,  and  he  replied, '  I  will,  not  because  of 
your  authority,  but  because  of  the  power  of  the 


PASSE  ROSE.  51 

martyr.'  This  the  demon  said,  shuddering  and 
breathing  rage,  through  the  mouth  of  the  abbot. 
Immediately  afterwards  he  came  out,  and  the 
abbot,  speaking  in  his  natural  voice,  bade  them 
seek  the  serf  who  keeps  the  gate,  that  he  should 
carry  him  to  his  own  house,  —  for  thou  knowest 
the  abbot  is  heavy.  So  he  who  came  last  went 
to  the  room  which  is  by  the  gate,"  —  here  Ma- 
rethruda  paused  to  recover  her  breath,  and  Passe 
Rose,  unclasping  her  hands  from  her  knees, 
leaned  forward  her  head  to  listen,  — "  and, 
opening  the  door,  what  thinkest  thou  he  saw  ?  " 

Jeanne,  long  since  lost  in  wonder,  was  ready 
to  believe  it  was  Satan  himself,  but  fear  had 
reduced  her  to  such  a  state  she  could  offer  no 
conjecture. 

"  A  girl  of  surpassing  beauty,  who  was  none 
other  than  the  demon  himself." 

Passe  Rose  laughed  softly.  "How  knowest 
thou  certainly  it  was  he  ? "  she  asked  gravely, 
approaching  the  window. 

"  Because,"  rejoined  Mare*thruda  sharply,  not 
liking  that  any  one  should  doubt  the  power  of 
the  blessed  martyrs,  "  for  many  reasons.  First, 
there  was  about  the  neck  a  circle  of  fire ;  and 
secondly,  no  sooner  did  the  fiend  perceive  the 
monk  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  than  it  ut 
tered  a  piercing  shriek  and  fell  upon  the  floor. 
And,  indeed,  that  it  was  no  young  girl  is  plain, 


52  PASSE  ROSE. 

for  immediately  the  doors  of  the  room  were 
closed  and  barred,  and  when  morning  came  the 
prior  went  in  person  to  see  whether  it  were  so, 
finding  no  trace  of  any  one  but  the  serf.  Can 
a  young  girl  of  flesh  and  blood  like  thyself  pass 
through  walls  of  stone  ?  "  asked  Mar£thruda  tri 
umphantly. 

"  True,"  replied  Passe  Kose. 

"  Moreover,"  added  Jeanne,  "  devils  often 
take  the  form  of  beautiful  girls  to  tempt  the 
saints  ;  that  is  well  known." 

"  God  forbid  !  "  said  Passe  Eose  thoughtfully. 

"  Do  thou  go  and  buy  a  wax  candle  of  four 
deniers,"  said  Jeanne  fervently,  as  she  returned 
to  her  soup,  "  and  light  it  at  the  altar  of  St. 
Servais  in  the  church  of  St.  Sebastian,  and  after 
dinner  is  over  we  will  go  to  implore  his  succor, 
lest  this  devil  enter  one  of  us." 

Whereupon,  with  a  trembling  hand,  her 
thoughts  flying  hither  and  thither  in  her  brain, 
like  a  swarm  of  bees  which  have  lost  their  hive, 
Jeanne  stirred  the  soup,  and  Passe  Rose  went 
down  the  path  to  the  gate,  driving  the  birds  be 
fore  her,  and  smiling  at  their  noisy  chatter. 

It  was  indeed  strange  that  Passe  Rose,  who 
was  on  her  way  to  consult  the  pythoness  in  all 
sincerity,  should  at  the  same  time  find  such 
cause  for  laughter  in  the  fact  of  the  abbot's  pos 
session  by  a  demon.  Yet  so  it  was.  So  com- 


PASSE  ROSE.  53 

plex  is  the  mind  of  man,  and  so  various  are  the 
aspects  of  all  which  surround  him,  that  in  every 
age  he  is  seen  to  deride  the  powers  in  whose  fear 
he  lives,  to  seek  what  he  despises  and  contemn 
what  he  desires,  to  slight  what  he  loves  and 
caress  what  he  loathes;  and  thus  Passe  Rose, 
on  the  way  to  the  sorceress,  made  all  manner 
of  merriment  of  monkish  superstitions,  just  as 
Jeanne,  while  powdering  her  cakes  with  corian 
der  and  adding  the  saffron  to  her  soup,  said  to 
herself  that  only  by  resisting  all  carnal  appetites 
could  one  be  sure  to  escape  the  power  of  devils. 

Having  purchased  the  candle,  Passe  Rose  ap 
proached  the  church  portal  slowly,  looking  for 
an  opportunity  when  she  might  address  the 
woman  without  being  observed ;  for  although 
the  latter  lived  altogether  upon  the  alms  she 
received  from  those  who  sought  her  counsel, 
there  was  not  one  in  all  Maestricht  who  did  not 
agree  with  the  abbot  that  every  such  practice 
was  contrary  to  the  word  of  God  and  altogether 
unlawful.  So  Passe  Rose  lingered  on  the  way, 
and,  coming  into  the  porch,  began  to  admire  the 
carvings  over  the  door,  although  she  had  seen 
them  often  enough,  and  indeed  much  finer  else 
where  ;  and  when  no  one  was  by  she  pressed  her 
sou  into  the  old  woman'  hand,  and,  stooping  to 
her  ear,  whispered  :  — 

"I   seek   a   Saxon    maiden   whose    name  is 


54  PASSE  ROSE. 

Rothilde.  Tell  me  quickly  where  she  is  to  be 
found." 

One  might  well  think  that  God  had  forgotten 
the  work  of  his  hand  at  the  sight  of  this  crea 
ture,  whose  body  was  so  curved  by  the  rickets 
that  her  knees  were  close  to  her  chin. 

"  Hasten,"  said  Passe  Rose,  her  rosy  cheek 
next  the  yellow  skin. 

"  Come  again  at  the  vesper  service,"  replied 
the  sorceress,  "and  I  will  tell  thee  all  thou 
desirest  to  know." 

Passe  Rose  was  disappointed  at  this  delay, 
but,  restraining  her  impatience  as  best  she 
might,  went  in  and  lighted  the  candle  at  the 
altar  of  St.  Servais,  where  already  others  were 
burning,  and  before  which  were  many  people 
praying ;  for  the  rumor  of  what  had  transpired 
was  spread  abroad  through  the  whole  city. 
Thither  also  she  returned  with  Jeanne  in  the 
afternoon,  and  again  after  the  vesper  office, 
when  the  sorceress  told  her  that  if  she  would 
compass  her  quest  she  must  pass  that  night  in 
fast  and  prayer  in  the  oratory,  and  at  vigils 
open  the  gospels  which  were  on  the  altar,  and  it 
would  be  told  her  what  she  was  to  do. 

Now  it  was  no  hardship  for  Passe  Rose  to  fast 
only  one  evening  and  night,  for  she  had  often 
fasted  perforce  longer  than  that ;  neither  did 
she  fear  to  watch  by  night  in  the  oratory.  But 


PASSE  ROSE.  55 

it  troubled  her  sorely  to  open  the  gospels,  for 
she  could  not  read.  However,  she  made  known 
to  Jeanne  her  intention  of  passing  the  night  in 
fast  and  prayer,  —  a  resolve  which  Jeanne  ap 
plauded  heartily,  it  being  easier  for  her  to  com 
mend  the  abstinence  of  another  than  to  practice 
it  herself.  So  when  night  was  come  Passe  Kose 
entered  the  church  again,  and  prostrated  herself 
before  the  altar  in  the  oratory  set  apart  for  St. 
Servais. 

There  were  others  also  with  her :  a  woman  who 
was  a  serf,  belonging  to  the  royal  domain  called 
Estinnes,  suffering  from  a  grievous  paralysis,  so 
that  she  could  lift  her  hand  neither  to  clothe 
nor  feed  herself  ;  a  young  man  having  a  malady 
called  by  the  Greeks  spasm,  whereby  his  hand 
shook  continually;  and  others  tormented  by 
various  judgments  of  God,  or  having  sins  to  ex 
piate  by  prayer  and  fasting.  Presently  the  sac 
ristan  closed  the  doors,  and  the  sound  of  his 
footsteps  on  the  stone  flags  having  ceased,  Passe 
Rose  knew  that  he  had  retired.  Then  she  raised 
her  head  and  looked  about  her. 

The  feeble  lights  around  the  altar  were  unable 
to  penetrate  the  darkness,  and  the  shadows  be 
hind  her  seemed  momentarily  to  advance  and 
retreat,  as  if  contending  with  them.  Occasion 
ally  a  groan  or  an  invocation  from  some  one  of 
those  near  her  rose  like  a  spirit  into  the  dome, 


56  PASSE  ROSE. 

beating  back  and  forth  from  side  to  side,  as  a 
bird  seeking  to  escape  its  place  of  confinement. 
Truly  it  did  not  occur  to  Passe  Rose,  as  it  might 
have  to  the  learned  abbot,  that  the  altar,  with  its 
precious  vessels  and  struggling  tapers,  before 
which  these  unfortunates  were  kneeling,  sur 
rounded  by  the  darkness  and  overarched  by  the 
dome  which  flung  back  their  supplications,  rep 
resented  in  some  manner  the  Church  of  God,  so 
feeble  amid  the  suffering,  crime,  and  ignorance  of 
the  world,  yet  calm  with  patience  and  an  invin 
cible  faith  in  its  own  destiny.  Surely,  of  all  this 
Passe  Rose  understood  as  little  as  she  under 
stood  the  characters  on  the  pages  of  the  gospels. 
Yet  she  knew  well  that  there  was  here  something 
too  vast  for  understanding,  in  whose  mysterious 
presence  kings  bowed  and  her  own  spirit  trem 
bled  ;  and  for  a  while  she  remained  on  the  cold 
floor,  repeating  her  prayers  in  good  earnest 
without  lifting  her  eyes.  But  being  in  vigorous 
health  and  of  active  mind,  soon  her  thoughts 
began  to  wander,  so  that  even  with  pinching 
herself  she  could  scarce  keep  from  dozing.  At 
last  her  head  fell  to  one  side,  and,  anxious  lest 
through  sleep  she  should  miss  the  hour,  she  rose 
softly,  walking  to  and  fro  in  the  darkness,  be 
hind  the  others. 

There  was  yet  some  time  before  the  monas 
tery  bell  would   announce  the  hour  of   vigils; 


PASSE  ROSE.  57 

there  was  nothing  for  her  hand  to  do  nor  any 
thing  to  divert  her  attention;  so  she  gave  her 
self  over  to  her  thoughts,  following  wherever 
fancy  led  her,  as  when  one  who  is  half  asleep 
abandons  himself  to  conscious  dreaming.  At 
first  she  debated  with  herself  whether  it  were 
necessary  to  open  the  gospels  at  the  hour  which 
the  woman  had  indicated;  for  although  this 
manner  of  divination  had  been  practiced  by 
kings  and  was  yet  much  esteemed  by  the  people, 
it  was  under  the  ban  of  the  Church,  and  ex 
pressly  forbidden  in  the  articles  which  Karle 
had  caused  to  be  written  in  his  councils.  This 
thought  disturbed  her,  for  there  were  many 
others  present,  and  she  wondered  whether  it 
would  not  answer  her  purpose  to  open  the  book 
on  the  reading-desk  near  the  high  altar.  But 
aside  from  the  fact  that  she  had  been  particu 
larly  enjoined  to  consult  the  gospels  in  the  ora 
tory  of  St.  Servais,  there  was  only  a  single  lamp 
burning  before  the  high  altar,  and  its  light  was 
so  feeble  that  she  could  distinguish  nothing. 

Perhaps  her  strange  adventures  in  the  wood 
and  the  abbey  recalled  to  mind  somewhat  of  her 
former  manner  of  life ;  or  perhaps,  being  alone 
in  the  darkness  and  solitude,  apart  from  the 
others,  a  sense  of  freedom  possessed  her  which  it 
was  not  possible  to  feel  in  the  garden  of  Jeanne  ; 
or  it  may  have  been  the  influence  of  the  night 


58  PASSE  ROSE. 

hours,  which  often  set  free  thoughts  and  imagin 
ings  that,  like  many  winged  and  creeping  crea^ 
tures,  lie  hidden  during  the  day,  —  at  all  events, 
whether  for  these  reasons  or  not,  Passe  Rose 
began  to  dream  and  indulge  her  fancy  in  visions 
wherein  neither  Jeanne,  nor  Werdric,  nor  the 
boy  who  tended  the  geese,  nor  any  familiar  ob 
jects  had  part ;  not  even  Passe  Rose  herself  in 
her  simple  dress  and  sandals,  but  Passe  Rose  in 
silken  shoon  and  a  pearl  girdle,  Passe  Rose  on 
a  white  mare,  with  a  page  at  the  bridle  rein. 
Now  she  traveled  with  Friedgis  in  a  great  wood, 
seeking  the  Saxon  maiden,  and  now  she  sat  with 
Gui  of  Tours  at  banquet ;  now  Friedgis  defended 
her  from  some  wild  beast  whose  covert  they  dis 
turbed  in  passing,  and  now  she  rode  in  the  train 
of  the  king's  daughters  —  when  suddenly  the 
monastery  bell  sounded  faintly  from  the  hill,  all 
these  things  vanished,  and  she  saw  only  the  altar 
surrounded  by  the  candles  and  the  gospels  lying 
upon  it.  Yet  on  the  background  of  her  sight 
the  dream  lingered,  so  that  she  was  conscious 
both  of  it  and  what  she  was  doing  as,  going 
boldly  forward,  she  opened  the  gospels,  noting 
well  the  miniature  which  adorned  the  page,  and 
making  a  mark  with  her  nail  against  the  pas 
sage  she  selected. 

In  the  early  morning  came  one  of  the  clerks 
who  had  charge  of  the  church,  to  prepare  for  the 
morning  office. 


PASSE  HOSE.  59 

"  Sir,"  said  Passe  Rose,  pointing  to  the  gos 
pels,  "is  that  the  Scriptures  which  the  king 
gave  at  the  feast  of  Noel  to  the  church  of  St. 
Sebastian  ?  " 

"No,"  he  replied;  "the  book  of  which  thou 
speakest  is  used  only  on  holy-days." 

"  I  have  heard  it  said  that  it  is  ornamented 
with  most  wonderful  pictures." 

"  That  is  true,"  answered  the  clerk,  "  painted 
in  gold  and  vermilion  upon  purple  vellum." 

"  In  gold  and  vermilion,"  repeated  Passe 
Rose  ;  "that  were  indeed  wonderful." 

"  Moreover,"  said  the  clerk,  "  it  is  written  in 
new  characters,  very  easy  to  read  "  — 

"  Like  those  of  the  notary,  which  Marethruda 
has  shown  me,"  suggested  Passe  Rose. 

"  Nay,"  replied  the  clerk,  "that  is  an  ordinary 
manner  of  writing  very  different  "  — 

"  Show  me,  I  pray  thee,  in  thy  missal,"  said 
Passe  Rose. 

"I  have  it  not  with  me,"  he  replied,  "but 
come  hither.  Seest  thou  these  characters  ?  "  — 
opening  the  gospels,  —  "how  long  and  thin  is 
the  stroke  of  the  pen?  Those  in  the  king's 
parchment  are  round,  and  "  — 

"  What  astonishes  me,"  interrupted  Passe 
Rose,  turning  over  the  leaves,  "  is  that  any  one 
should  find  meaning  in  such  marks." 

"  It  is  very  easy,"  said  the  clerk  compla 
cently. 


60  PASSE  ROSE. 

"  Tell  me,  now,"  asked  Passe  Rose,  putting 
her  finger  on  the  page,  "  canst  thou  read  this  ?  " 

"Certainly.  That  is  the  Gospel  of  Saint 
Matthew,  who  is  here  relating  what  the  blessed 
Christ  said  to  the  multitude,  and  there  where 
thou  hast  thy  finger  it  is  written:  '  Behold, 
they  that  wear  soft  clothing  are  in  kings' 

-  ^    /  houses?  " 

"  A'ie,  Aie,"  ejaculated  Passe  Hose,  lost  in 
wonder,  and  repeating  the  words  under  her 
breath. 

Recalled  at  this  moment  to  his  duties  by 
those  who  came  to  the  morning  service,  the  clerk 
closed  the  book,  while  Passe  Rose,  whose  in 
terest  in  the  art  of  the  copyist  seemed  to  have 
been  satisfied,  went  slowly  away,  saying  to  her 
self,  "  In  kings'  houses  —  in  kings'  houses." 


VI. 

A  rise  of  three  degrees  in  the  temperature  of 
the  blood  is  fatal  to  ceremony,  and  so  trifling  a 
change  often  discovers  a  secret  one  might  other 
wise  seek  in  vain  to  know  — whether  the  bond 
which  attaches  others  to  us  be  one  of  interest  or 
affection.  Thus  it  was  that  the  abbot,  though 
his  chaplain  and  servants  neither  asked  permis 
sion  to  be  seated  in  his  presence  nor  received 


PASSE  HOSE.  61 

his  wishes  kneeling,  as  they  did  when  he  was  in 
health,  perceived  from  his  sick-bed  the  evidence 
of  a  solicitude  on  his  behalf  which  imparted 
to  the  thought  of  returning  life  a  satisfying 
pleasure. 

This  was  no  more  than  he  might  rightfully 
have  expected.  His  rule  had  been  firm  but 
mild,  and  setting  forth  doctrines  strange  to  his 
times,  namely,  that  power  was  for  the  protection 
of  the  weak,  and  not  for  their  oppression,  and 
that  no  man  or  woman,  however  unfit  for  labor 
or  war,  might  not  become  useful  to  God,  if  only 
by  exhibiting  virtues  of  meekness  and  patience. 
Yet  the  abbot  was  always  surprised  as  well  as 
pleased  that  men  should  either  love  or  praise 
him;  for  it  was  a  noteworthy  fact  that  of  all 
who  knew  him  none  held  him  in  less  esteem 
than  did  he  himself.  Whereas  in  later  times 
Pascal  said,  "  I  cannot  forgive  Montaigne," 
Kainal,  abbot  of  St.  Servais,  used  continually  to 
say,  "  I  cannot  forgive  Rainal." 

Wearing  ordinarily  the  common  dress  of  a 
monk,  except  that  all  rose  and  bowed  when  he 
came  into  the  refectory  or  chapter-house,  none 
who  saw  him  would  have  suspected  that  one  of 
so  modest  a  manner  had  been  first  chaplain 
to  the  great  Karle,  and  loved  by  him  above 
other  counselors.  Not  only  had  he  frequently 
served  the  king  among  the  missi  dominici,  de- 


62  PASSE  ROSE 

termining  pleas  and  judging  causes  of  every 
kind,  but  he  had  also  been  sent  upon  distant 
missions  both  of  church  and  state,  —  to  the 
pope  at  Rome,  and  to  the  dukes  of  Bavaria 
and  Spoleto.  How  he  had  discharged  these 
duties  was  recorded  over  the  king's  own  signa 
ture  in  the  grant  of  his  benefice,  wherein  it 
was  written  that  "  by  faithful  service  and  a  de 
voted  obedience  he  worthily  deserves  the  favor 
of  our  generosity."  And  it  cost  the  king  more 
to  part  with  his  person  than  with  the  gifts 
whereby  he  honored  him  ;  for  not  only  in  his 
palaces  of  Aix  and  Ingelheim,  when,  resting 
from  war,  he  refreshed  his  mind  with  learning 
and  the  arts  of  peace,  but  also  in  the  wastes  of 
Saxony,  when  he  launched  his  leudes  against 
the  rebels,  at  the  siege  of  Pavia,  and  in  the 
grievous  retreat  from  Spain,  Rainal,  no  less 
sturdy  and  tireless  in  the  saddle  than  his  royal 
master,  had  shared  his  triumphs  and  reverses. 

From  these  scenes  he  withdrew  at  his  own  re 
quest.  "  For  the  child  the  hour  of  death  may 
be  near  at  hand,"  he  said  to  the  king ;  "for  the 
old  man  it  must  be.  Suffer  me,  then,  to  retire 
from  the  affairs  of  this  world,  that  when  that 
hour  comes  it  may  not  surprise  me  occupied 
with  passing  things,  but  applied  to  prayer  and 
meditation  on  the  divine  word."  Upon  this 
entreaty,  oft  repeated,  the  king  released  him 


PASSE  ROSE.  63 

from  daily  attendance  upon  his  person,  as  also 
from  visiting  the  court  yearly  as  others  were 
required  to  do ;  and  having  thus  given  him  con 
trol  over  himself,  following  the  custom  of  his 
predecessors,  was  pleased  further  to  make  him 
abbot  of  St.  Servais,  with  jurisdiction  over  the 
neighboring  convent  of  Eicka  and  all  its  depen 
dencies  and  granges,  besides  granting  him  cer 
tain  villas  with  their  adjacent  forests  and  fields, 
pastures  and  meadows,  formerly  belonging  to 
the  royal  domain,  together  with  all  servants  and 
serfs  attached  thereto,  to  have  and  to  hold  in 
quietness,  and  to  leave  by  will  to  whomsoever 
he  wished. 

It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  king, 
loving  the  abbot  so  well,  should  desire  to  be  in 
formed  of  his  health ;  and  to  this  end  he  sent 
frequently  from  the  castle  of  Immaburg,  near 
to  Aix,  where  he  was  then  passing  the  autumn 
hunting-time,  inquiring  how  the  abbot  fared; 
and  on  the  evening  of  the  second  day  following 
the  invocation  of  the  relics  came  Gui  of  Tours 
on  the  king's  errand. 

Jeanne  and  Passe  Rose  were  returning  from 
afternoon  service,  and  were  leaving  the  open 
space  before  the  church  of  St.  Sebastian,  near 
the  corner  of  the  garden  wall,  when  the  troop 
entered  at  the  opposite  angle,  and  at  the  sound 
of  the  horses'  feet  they  turned  to  see  what  was 


64  PASSE  ROSE. 

approaching.      Perceiving    that    the    horsemen 
were  riding  furiously  and  directing  their  course 
to  the  street  where  she  was,  Jeanne  seized  the 
hand  of  Passe  Rose,  who  would  fain  have  loi 
tered,  and  hurried  her  towards  the  garden  gate, 
for  the  street  was  narrow,  and  she  feared  to  be 
caught  between  the  walls.     So  fast  did  the  troop 
approach  that  the  clatter  of  hoofs  resounded  in 
the  street  before  the  gate  was  reached,  so  that 
Jeanne  was  forced  to  run,  and  had  well-nigh  ex 
hausted  her  strength  when  she  reached  the  door. 
Here,  although  perfectly  safe,  she  fumbled  the 
key  in  her  haste,  and  thrust  it  awry  in  the  lock, 
while  Passe  Rose,  there  being  room  for  but  one 
under  the   arch,  stood  without,  her  hands  and 
back  pressed  against  the  wall.     The  passing  of 
the  troop  was  the  affair  of  a  moment ;  but  when 
Jeanne  had  succeeded  in  opening  the  door,  and, 
though  all  danger  was  over,  had  excitedly  pulled 
Passe  Rose  into  the  garden  after  her,  the  girl 
carried  in  with  her  a  picture  as  distinct  as  if  she 
had  seen  it  quietly  in  her  own  chamber,  and  not 
for  a  moment  only,  through  a  cloud  of  dust  and 
amid  a  tumult  of  arms  and  horses'  feet.     This 
picture  was  none  other  than  that  of  Gui  of  Tours 
at  the  head  of  the  horsemen,  a  picture  complete 
from  the  short-sleeved  tunic  which  left  bare  the 
knees,  the  fur-lined  jacket,  and  the  baldric  from 
which  hung  the  sword,  even  to  the  shoes  fas- 


PASSE  ROSE.  65 

tened  about  the  legs  by  leather  thongs.  On  his 
part,  although  swept  on  by  the  impetus  of  those 
who  came  after  him,  Gui  of  Tours  saw  plainly 
his  collar  of  gold  about  a  neck  of  equal  lustre, 
and  two  brown  eyes,  which,  without  any  effort, 
or  perhaps  knowledge,  on  the  part  of  their  pos 
sessor,  shot  a  glance  of  recognition  sharper  than 
an  arrow's  point  through  the  dusty  cloud. 

"  The  world  is  not  over-wide  after  all,"  said 
Gui  to  himself,  smiling  as  he  galloped  on. 

Beyond  the  city  the  cavalcade  left  the  Roman 
road  leading  southward  for  that  up  the  monas 
tery  hill.  The  way  was  steep,  but  the  jaded 
horses  climbed  it  eagerly,  their  ears  pricked 
forward  as  if  anticipating  already  the  abbot's 
oats.  The  slope  on  either  side  was  covered  with 
vineyards,  whose  fruit  was  beginning  to  ripen, 
and  the  full  clusters,  shaded  with  golden-yellow 
or  purple,  might  plainly  be  seen  between  the 
bright  green  leaves  tinged  with  autumn  bronze. 
Vine-dressers  were  tying  the  bending  branches 
to  the  stakes  with  willow  withes,  or  spreading 
ashes  about  the  roots  to  hasten  the  work  of  the 
sun  ;  and  on  reaching  the  brow  of  the  hill,  fields 
sweet  with  odors  of  drying  grass,  interspersed 
with  patches  of  wheat  and  rye,  flax  and  hemp, 
appeared  on  the  plain.  The  sun  was  low  in  his 
arc  as  the  abbey  towers  came  in  view,  overtop 
ping  the  trees  which  shaded  the  fish-ponds,  and 


66  PASSE  ROSE. 

( the  sound  of  the  wooden  hammer  on  the  bell  was 
\heard  calling  the  laborers  home.  From  the 
vines  and  the  fields,  the  vegetable  gardens  about 
the  ponds,  and  the  blue  line  of  forest  to  the 
west,  they  came  in  groups,  laughing  and  chat 
ting  together,  their  tools  in  their  hands ;  others 
were  laden  with  baskets  of  provisions,  while 
across  the  pastures,  between  the  lowing  of  loiter 
ing  cattle,  might  be  heard  the  song  of  the  goat 
herds  and  shepherds,  and  the  wood-cutters 
chanting  hymns  and  prayers  as  they  emerged 
from  the  forest  with  their  bundles  of  fagots  and 
poles. 

The  vast  court  within  the  outer  wall,  extend 
ing  on  this  side  the  length  of  the  abbey  close, 
with  its  small  wooden  houses,  its  workshops, 
granaries,  and  sheds,  swarmed  at  this  hour  with 
a  motley  population.  Wagons  loaded  with  grain 
were  drawn  up  within  the  gate,  their  unyoked 
oxen  gazing  stupidly  around ;  donkeys,  almost 
hidden  by  their  burdens,  waited  patiently  before 
the  stalls  ;  Verdsmen  carried  milk-pails,  whose 
white  froth  gave  forth  a  pleasant  odor,  to  the 
bakehouse,  or  filled  the  cribs  in  the  cattle-sheds  ; 
workmen  were  preparing  the  wine-presses  for 
the  vintage,  and  rows  of  casks  banded  with  iron 
stood  ready  for  the  coating  of  pitch  and  soap 
heating  in  caldrons  over  the  fire.  In  the  middle 
of  the  court  was  a  small  wooden  basilica,  in  front 


PASSE  ROSE.  67 

of  whose  portico,  under  the  shade  of  a  few  trees 
festooned  by  vines,  a  table  was  spread  with 
loaves  and  dressed  meats  for  the  poor  seeking 
food  and  shelter  at  the  abbot's  hands. 

Through  this  throng  Gui  and  his  company 
made  their  way  slowly,  saluting  the  almoner  at 
the  table  under  the  trees,  and  the  monks  in  the 
doors  of  the  workshops  along  the  way ;  and 
coming  to  the  high  wall  dividing  the  court  from 
the  monastery  close,  Gui  struck  with  his  sword- 
hilt  upon  the  oaken  gate. 

Having  given  his  horse  to  his  servant,  he, 
with  two  of  his  companions,  entered,  and  were 
conducted  to  the  hall  reserved  for  the  abbot's 
guests. 

An  atmosphere  of  peace  and  quietude,  in 
striking  contrast  to  the  activity  without,  per 
vaded  the  inner  inclosure.  The  very  language 
was  different,  for  the  vulgar  tongue  was  pro 
hibited  within  the  abbey  proper. 

Learning  that  the  abbot  was  mending  fast, 
Gui  retired  to  the  chamber  assigned  him,  and 
after  a  bath,  which  he  found  already  prepared 
in  the  large  tank  of  warm  water,  returned  to 
the  hall  into  which  his  chamber  opened.  There 
Sergius  the  prior,  dispensing  the  hospitality  of 
the  house  in  the  abbot's  absence,  awaited  him,  as 
also  a  goodly  smell  of  cooking  which  came  from 
the  adjoining  room,  through  whose  doorway 


68  PASSE  JKOSE. 

might  be  seen  figures  hurrying  to  and  fro  in  the 
flaring  firelight  and  smoke. 

The  Prior  Sergius  was  very  agreeable  in  con 
versation,  though  he  said  little.  Those  whom 
vtMuhe  addressed  were  at  first  charmed  by  a  certain 
Roman  elegance  of  manner  consorting  strangely 
with  his  robe.  Afterwards,  whether  because  of 
his  small  white  hands,  or  a  fire  which  slumbered 
in  his  eyes,  one  began  to  entertain  all  manner 
of  absurd  conjectures ;  as  that,  if  he  had  not 
been  a  monk,  the  love  of  luxury  and  pomp,  or 
the  greed  of  power  and  gain  —  but  no,  that  were 
impossible,  and  while  putting  away  the  suspi 
cions,  the  soft  reserve  of  his  speech  gave  to  them 
so  fresh  a  force  that  one  looked  askance  at  his 
pale,  thin  face,  saying,  "God  keep  him  the 
monk,  else  the  Devil  will  possess  the  man." 

If  young  Gui  of  Tours  did  not  observe  this, 
it  was  either  because  he  was  hungry  and  the 
table  well  served,  or  because  his  thoughts  were 
on  other  things.  He  listened  to  the  account  of 
the  interposition  of  the  saint  in  the  abbot's  be 
half,  and  he  in  turn  told  the  prior  the  news  of 
the  outside  world,  —  of  the  ambassadors  from 
the  newly  elected  pope,  who  brought  the  keys 
and  standard  of  the  city  of  Rome  ;  of  the  end 
of  the  war  against  the  Avars,  the  destruction 
of  their  fortified  camp,  and  the  fabulous  treas 
ures  found  in  the  royal  residence  of  the  Kan  ; 


PASSE  ROSE.  69 

of  the  expected  coming  of  Pepin,  the  king's  son, 
to  Aix;  and  then,  suddenly  turning  to  Ser- 
gius,  — 

"  Prior,"  he  asked,  "  tell  me  who  it  is  that 
dwells  in  the  house  by  the  square  of  St.  Sebas 
tian,  at  the  corner  of  the  street  leading  thence 
upon  the  road  to  Liege." 

"  It  must  be  Werdric  the  goldsmith,"  replied 
the  prior,  after  a  moment's  reflection. 

Now  the  prior  had  one  habit  which,  when  it 
overcame  him,  greatly  marred  his  Roman  man 
ner.  This  was  to  fix  his  eyes  upon  those  who 
conversed  with  him.  A  straightforward  gaze 
which  follows  the  motion  of  the  heart  troubles 
no  one,  but  to  be  watched  and,  as  it  were,  stud 
ied  like  a  book  is  far  from  agreeable.  For  this 
reason,  while  the  prior  was  telling  who  Werdric 
was,  —  that  he  was  born  a  royal  serf  attached 
to  one  of  the  granges  which  the  king  had  given 
the  abbot ;  that  the  latter  had  released  him 
from  the  yoke  of  servitude  for  his  skill  in  gold- 
working,  and  given  him  the  house  where  he  lived 
with  ample  freedom  to  use  it  and  all  he  might 
thereafter  make  in  his  trade,  according  to  the 
canons  and  his  own  will,  like  other  Roman  citi 
zens  ;  how  he  lived  in  peace  with  his  wife  and 
four  others,  one  being  a  serf  of  the  abbey,  also 
very  skillful  in  the  setting  of  gold,  one  a  boy 
who  tended  the  geese  in  the  meadow  on  which 


70  PASSE  HOSE. 

the  abbot  had  granted  Werdric  the  right  of  pas 
turage,  and  two  women,  also  serfs,  spinning  and 
weaving  exceeding  well ;  and  that  there  was, 
moreover,  he  believed,  a  young  maiden  in  the 
household  who  passed  for  Werdric's  daughter, 
an  idle  girl  received  out  of  charity,  whether 
f reeborn  or  not  he  could  not  tell,  —  while,  as 
was  said,  Gui  listened  to  this  information,  he 
felt  the  espial  of  the  prior's  eye  like  the  pry  of 
a  lever  under  a  stone  ;  so  that  although  learning 
exactly  what  he  wished  to  know,  he  nevertheless 
muttered  to  himself,  "  May  God  wither  such 
eyes  !  "  and  again,  "  This  monk  is  both  shrewd 
and  audacious ; "  and  at  last,  when  the  prior 
came  to  the  young  girl,  as  if  weary  of  the  whole 
matter,  he  flung  down  his  cup  on  the  board, 
saying  that  if  it  pleased  the  abbot  to  receive 
him  that  night  he  was  ready,  and  if  not  he 
would  go  to  bed.  Upon  this  the  prior,  who 
studied  to  live  in  perfect  understanding  with 
all,  and  knew  how  to  preside  at  a  table  though 
partaking  of  nothing  himself,  filled  the  young 
man's  cup  and  said  he  would  ascertain  what  was 
the  abbot's  pleasure. 

Gui's  two  companions,  their  faces  hid  in  their 
arms  and  their  arms  on  the  table,  were  already 
asleep;  for  the  ride  had  been  long  and  the 
abbey  wine  was  heavy.  Indeed,  young  Gui  him 
self,  when  he  looked  into  his  cup,  could  see  noth- 


PASSE  ROSE.  71 

ing  but  a  golden  collar  and  two  brown  eyes 
which  laughed  and  vanished  when  the  wine  was 
stirred,  and  reappeared  when  it  was  still  again. 
He  rose  from  the  bench,  walking  to  and  fro,  de 
ploring  the  necessity  which  forbade  his  remain 
ing  in  Maestricht,  and  endeavoring  to  devise 
some  plan  by  which  he  might  accomplish  his 
mission  without  returning  at  once  to  Immaburg. 
Often  he  abandoned  the  thought  as  impossible 
to  realize,  being  the  king's  messenger ;  and  then, 
when  he  lifted  the  cup  to  his  lips,  the  eyes  in 
the  wine  shone  and  laughed  again,  and  such 
perfumes  rose  from  it  as  filled  his  brain  with 
new  devices,  —  in  the  midst  of  which  he  walked 
through  the  archway  into  the  kitchen,  nor  knew 
where  he  was  till  the  smoke  lingering  in  the 
rafters  and  the  shining  of  vessels  in  the  firelight 
recalled  him  to  his  senses.  While  thus  debating 
what  he  should  do,  a  servant  came,  saying  that 
the  abbot  had  just  awakened  from  refreshing 
slumber  and  would  receive  the  king's  message. 

The  effect  produced  upon  the  abbot  by  the  re 
lation  of  the  events  which  occurred  the  night 
Passe  Eose  visited  the  monastery  had  been  little 
short  of  stupefaction.     He  was  not  free  from/ 
the   naive    credulousness   which    tinctured   the 
piety  of  his  day,  a  piety  which  if  thus  sometimes  I 
degraded  to  superstition  was  also  often  elevated 
to  the  heroism  of  faith.     He  had  not  the  slight- 


72  PASSE  ROSE. 

est  doubt  that  the  traces  made  by  the  chariot- 
wheels  of  Pharaoh  on  the  Red  Sea  bottom  were 
still  visible,  as  affirmed  by  travelers  who  visited 
the  spot,  and  that  if  effaced  by  the  violence  of 
the  waves  they  reappeared  by  the  will  of  God 
when  the  sea  became  calm  again.  But  it  per 
plexed  him  to  believe  that  God  had  given  over 
his  body  to  be  the  abode  of  devils.  That  such 
should  assume  the  form  of  a  beautiful  woman 
was  credible  enough,  but  that  they  should  find 
shelter  in  the  temporary  dwelling  of  the  soul 
of  an  abbot  was  unheard  of  and  contrary  to 
reason.  Reflecting  upon  this  matter  as  he  lay 
on  his  bed,  he  endeavored  to  put  away  the  tempt- 
ings  of  spiritual  pride.  How  should  he  justify 
the  ways  of  God  ?  When  he  looked  about  him 
did  he  not  see  bishops  seeking  honors  rather 
than  to  honor  God,  magistrates  loving  presents 
more  than  justice,  nobles  glutted  with  spoils,  — 
everywhere  war,  the  war  of  the  vulture  upon  the 
defenseless,  the  war  of  the  kite  upon  the  dove  ? 
How  should  he  reconcile  these  things  to  the  prov 
idence  of  God  ?  Abbot  though  he  was,  he  un 
derstood  them  as  little  as  did  Passe  Rose  what 
she  saw  when  repeating  her  prayers  before  the 
shrine  of  St.  Servais.  Yet  he  knew,  as  she  did, 
the  presence  of  something  mightier  than  he,  — 
the  spirit  brooding  above  the  waters.  When 
perplexed  by  such  thoughts  the  abbot  instantly 


PASSE  ROSE.  73 

addressed  himself  to  prayer.  He  knew  very 
well  that  the  tendency  to  think  was  one  of  his 
besetting  sins.  His  mind,  vigorous  as  had  been 
his  body,  loved  to  try  its  wings.  He  longed  for 
the  upper  space  in  the  presence  of  whose  sun 
no  cloud  can  form.  A  demon  was  thus  ever 
opening  the  window  of  his  soul  and  tempting  his 
thoughts  to  flight ;  but  like  the  dove  loosed  by 
Noah  on  the  waste  of  waters,  the  thought  of 
the  abbot  always  returned  to  the  ark  of  God. 

Following  his  conductor,  Gui  traversed  the 
shady  walk  between  the  church  and  the  school 
to  the  abbot's  lodging,  and  when  the  door  was 
opened  perceived  the  prior  with  two  others 
standing  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  Gui  had  seen 
the  abbot  about  the  king's  person  and  knew 
his  face  well ;  for  even  after  Rainal's  retirement 
from  the  court  he  had  accompanied  his  master 
upon  the  expedition  to  Saxony,  and  this  the 
more  willingly  in  the  hope  of  moderating  the 
treatment  of  the  captives.  Yet  Gui  was  aston 
ished  to  see  the  ravages  of  the  fever.  Approach 
ing  the  bed,  he  knelt  by  its  side;  whereupon 
the  abbot  laid  his  hand  on  his  head  and  blessed 
him. 

Then  said  Gui,  "  Our  sovereign  master,  the 
very  glorious  Karle,  to  Rainal,  his  faithful  serv 
itor  and  friend,  sends  greeting.  He  desires  me, 
his  messenger,  to  say  to  you  that  your  health  is 


74  PASSE  ROSE. 

his  joy,  and  your  joy  his  happiness,  and  may 
you  continue  in  the  grace  of  Jesus  Christ  and  of 
all  his  saints." 

It  was  more  from  emotion  than  from  weakness 
that  the  abbot's  voice  trembled  in  reply. 

"  Say  to  the  king  in  my  name  that  the  assur 
ance  of  his  friendship  is  consolation  to  the  mind 
and  medicine  to  the  body,  being  after  the  grace 
of  Heaven  the  support  of  failing  years  ;  and  that 
if  God  deigns  to  give  me  life  and  health  I  shall 
speak  in  person  those  things  which  weakness  of 
body  now  forbids  the  tongue  to  utter." 

As  Gui,  rising  from  his  knees,  waited  a  sign 
that  he  might  retire,  the  abbot,  regarding  him 
intently,  as  if  searching  his  memory,  asked  his 
name. 

"  Gui,  son  of  Robert,  Count  of  Tours,"  replied 
the  youth. 

A  shadow  passed  over  the  abbot's  face  as  he 
heard  the  count's  name.  "  Christ  preserve  you," 
he  said,  lifting  his  hand  in  sign  of  dismissal. 

Now  the  abbot  had  caused  to  be  written  an 
account  of  the  interposition  of  the  saint  in  his 
behalf,  duly  signed  by  witnesses,  and  this  docu 
ment,  together  with  a  portion  of  the  silken 
cloth  which  covered  the  reliquary,  he  desired  to 
transmit  to  the  king ;  so  that  when  the  morn 
ing  was  come,  and  Gui,  preparing  to  leave  the 
abbey,  was  about  to  mount  his  horse,  he  received 


PASSE  ROSE.  75 

a  message  from  the  abbot  to  the  effect  that  he 
sent  by  a  faithful  brother,  by  name  Dominic, 
certain  papers  to  the  king ;  and  in  order  that 
the  said  brother  should  suffer  no  inconvenience 
on  the  way,  he  committed  him  to  the  safe  con- 
duct  of  the  captain.  Immediately  after,  riding 
a  gray  mule,  appeared  Brother  Dominic  him 
self,  a  fitting  witness  to  all  in  the  abbot's  letter, 
having  watched  at  night  beside  his  litter  and 
seen  the  shape  taken  by  the  demon  in  Friedgis's 
cell. 

Young  Gui  of  Tours  was  hot  of  temper  and 
could  scarce  restrain  his  wrath;  for  his  mind 
had  but  one  thought,  —  to  discharge  the  king's 
mission  as  speedily  as  possible,  and  return  to 
Maestricht.  But  with  a  monk  riding  a  mule, 
there  was  little  chance  to  use  the  spur,  and  the 
day  would  scarce  answer  to  compass  the  dis 
tance.  Help  for  it  there  was  none,  however, 
and  saluting  the  monk  with  scant  grace,  he  rode 
slowly  through  the  courtyard  and  out  of  the 
gate  upon  the  road  between  the  vineyards. 

Never  before  was  a  man  in  so  fit  a  temper  to 
bear  with  discourtesy  as  was  Brother  Dominic, 
ambling  along  on  his  gray  mule.  Not  since  the 
day  he  came  with  letters  from  the  convent  of 
St.  Bavon  to  the  abbot  of  St.  Servais,  commend 
ing  him  as  very  dextrous  in  every  art  of  the 
scribe,  had  his  heart  overflowed  with  such  con- 


76  PASSE  POSE. 

tentment.  For  he  had  in  his  pouch,  besides  the 
manuscript  for  the  king,  the  epistles  for  every 
day  in  the  year,  done  by  his  own  hand  and  des 
tined  for  the  queen.  The  long  months  spent  at 
his  desk  and  the  cramp  in  his  right  thumb  were 
forgotten  in  the  thought  of  the  allegorical  fig 
ures,  the  gigantic  capitals,  whose  admirable 
drawing  and  soft  coloring  had  cost  so  many 
hours,  and  which  were  now  to  be  examined  by  a 
queen.  Though  the  missal  was  safely  inclosed 
in  the  silken  altar-cloth  and  thrice  enveloped  in 
thick  parchment,  this  did  not  prevent  him  from 
turning  over  in  his  mind  every  page  and  exam 
ining  with  pride  every  well-known  stroke  of  the 
pen.  Then  again,  like  the  apostles  of  old  who 
had  witnessed  miracles  and  cast  out  devils,  he 
also  had  seen  the  power  of  God,  and  it  pleased 
him  mightily  to  think  that  a  poor  monk  should 
have  been  concerned  in  such  weighty  matters ; 
so  that  between  the  praise  he  put  into  the 
queen's  mouth  and  the  wonder  he  foresaw  on 
the  king's  face,  the  recollection  of  his  gold- 
dotted  miniatures  and  the  rehearsal  of  the  story 
of  the  demon,  he  had  little  time  to  complain 
that  Gui  of  Tours  rode  moodily  before  him  in 
silence.  Without  his  window,  almost  within 
reach  of  his  hand  as  he  sat  at  his  copying-desk, 
a  bird  had  her  nest  in  a  vine,  and  the  view 
opening  before  him  from  the  brow  of  the  hill 


PASSE  HOSE.  77 

was  to  be  seen  also  from  the  orchard  within  the 
abbey  walls.  Yet,  riding  to  Immaburg  on  the 
high-road  was  a  very  different  thing  from  sitting 
at  his  copying-desk ;  and  the  boundless  plain, 
the  river  smoking  in  the  morning  sun,  the  scent 
of  dew-covered  hay,  the  thrill  of  the  air  when  a 
bird  sang,  all  seemed  new  to  him.  The  very  mo 
tion  of  the  mule  was  agreeable,  although  Brother 
Dominic  was  neither  well-knit  like  the  abbot, 
nor  graceful  like  the  prior,  and  the  mule  stag 
gered  at  times  on  a  rolling  stone. 

A  temper  quick  to  rise  is  soon  appeased,  and 
Gui  of  Tours  had  not  reached  the  foot  of  the 
hill  before  his  mood  began  to  change.  "By 
Heaven,"  he  said  half  aloud,  "  the  monk  is  not 
to  blame,  and  I  do  him  wrong."  At  the  same 
instant  came  the  thought  to  give  the  mule  to  one 
of  the  servants,  and  seat  the  monk  on  the  ser 
vant's  horse.  "  God  willing,  he  may  hold  fast 
at  a  gentle  pace,  and  compass  a  gallop  before 
the  day  is  over,"  thought  he.  Full  of  this 
thought,  he  reined  in  his  steed,  for  the  horses 
were  fresh,  and,  stretching  their  necks  to  loosen 
the  rein,  had  gained  at  every  step  on  the  mule. 

At  this  place  the  road  dipped  to  cross  a  run 
ning  brook,  and  rising  in  both  directions,  was 
visible  but  a  short  distance.  Thinking  that  the 
brawling  of  the  stream  drowned  the  sound  of 
the  mule's  feet,  and  expecting  every  moment  to 


78  PASSE  ROSE. 

see  its  ears  over  the  top  of  the  rise,  Gui  waited 
awhile,  ashamed  of  his  discourtesy,  then  rode 
backward  to  greet  the  monk  with  a  pleasant 
word.  But  before  reaching  the  brow  of  the 
hill  he  saw,  to  his  astonishment,  that  the  mule 
and  the  monk  had  parted  company,  whether  in 
wrath  or  peace  were  hard  to  tell ;  for  the  mule 
was  returning  leisurely  to  the  abbey,  while 
Brother  Dominic,  the  signs  of  terror  on  his  face, 
ran  in  the  opposite  direction  with  such  speed  as 
his  habit  of  body  and  dress  would  permit. 


VII. 

Was  there  ever  any  one  who  once  in  his  life 
did  not  feel  happiness,  not  flowing  in  from  with 
out,  but  welling  up,  as  it  were,  from  an  unsealed 
spring  within?  The  world  and  all  about  are 
the  same  ;  the  springs  are  not  there,  but  in  our 
selves.  The  eye  sees  and  the  ear  hears  what 
never  were  seen  nor  heard  before  ;  for  once 
soul  and  sense  minister  to  each  other  and  agree. 

It  was  not  because  of  the  sun  struggling 
through  her  window  of  horn  that  Passe  Rose, 
the  morning  on  which  Gui  of  Tours  set  out  from 
Maestricht  for  Immaburg,  rose  so  blithe  from 
her  dreams,  —  for  this  it  did  every  fair  day  in 
the  year,  —  nor  could  she  honestly  have  told 


PASSE  HOSE. 

what  had  unsealed  her  heart's 
never  had  grating  of  shutter  as  Werdric  opened 
his  shop  below,  nor  knocking  at  panel  slide  as 
some  passer-by  stopped  at  the  window  in  the 
wall  of  the  tavern  across  the  way  for  his  morn 
ing  beer,  nor  braying  of  loaded  mule  passing 
down  the  street  sounded  as  they  did  that  morn. 
There  was  nothing  so  common  or  so  trivial  that 
her  happiness  could  not  give  it  value,  just  as 
every  vulgar  pebble  twinkles,  or  blade  of  common 
grass  revives,  when  the  spring  water  overflows 
them.  It  was  nothing  to  her  that  Jeanne's 
cakes  were  underdone;  that  the  bees  in  the 
garden  were  making  less  honey  than  last  year ; 
that  the  boy  who  tended  the  geese  was  sick  from 
overeating  of  green  plums.  She  ate  the  cakes 
with  a  laugh,  vowing  that  if  the  honey  was  less 
in  quantity,  the  quality  was  better  than  ever  be 
fore,  and  seeing  Jeanne  anxious  for  the  geese, 
offered  to  drive  them  herself  to  pasture  in  the 
boy's  stead. 

Clustered  about  the  garden  gate,  alarm  and 
wonder  reigned  among  the   flock.     The  oldest 
could  not  remember  such  a  delay,  and  nothing  j  V 
so  disturbs  the  mind  as  the  invasion  of  habit./ 
The  citizens  of  Maestricht  themselves  could  not 
have  felt  more  alarm  at  seeing  the  sun  delay  his 
rising  than  did  the  geese  to  see  the  garden  gate 
still  closed;  and  if  the  moon  had  appeared  in 


80  PASSE  ROSE. 

the  sun's  stead,  they  would  not  have  lifted  their 
hands  in  greater  astonishment  than  that  with 
which  the  geese  craned  their  necks  to  see  Passe 
Rose  behind  them  with  the  boy's  staff.  There 
was  now  no  loitering  to  converse  with  their  fel 
lows  by  the  way.  The  leader  no  longer  regu 
lated  the  march  and  its  halts  ;  for  Passe  Rose 
was  quick  of  step,  and  many  a  joint  ached,  and 
many  a  throat  was  hoarse  with  remonstrance  be 
fore  the  pasture  was  gained. 

Beyond  the  town  the  way  skirted  the  abbey 
hill  to  where  the  brook  from  the  fish-ponds 
gained  the  plain ;  thence  it  followed  the  brook 
upward  to  an  intervale  hollowed  out  of  the  slope, 
like  a  man's  hand.  Here  the  stream  lost  all 
unity,  running  in  separate  noiseless  rills  about 
tufted  islands  of  grass,  or  spreading  itself  to  rest 
about  all  manner  of  water  plants,  such  as  the 
geese  loved.  Passe  Rose,  well  acquainted  with 
the  place,  knew  that  by  ascending  higher  to 
where  the  brook  crossed  the  road  she  might  watch 
at  her  ease  in  the  oak  shade  the  flock  on  the 
meadow  below.  Thither,  therefore,  she  went, 
and  after  washing  her  feet  in  the  cool  water  and 
laying  her  sandals,  which  had  been  wet  in  pass 
ing  through  the  meadow,  on  a  stone  in  the  sun, 
sat  down  near  by  under  the  trees. 

Before  her  the  narrow  cleft  where  the  brook 
ran  widened  out  into  the  pasture,  its  water  shim- 


PASSE  HOSE.  81 

mering  between  the  grasses  and  dotted  with  the 
bluish  gray  of  the  feeding  flock.  Farther  on, 
where  the  stream  gathered  again  to  fall  out  of 
sight  over  the  mead's  edge,  the  plain  covered 
with  forest  stretched  into  the  dim  distance, 
where  we  are  fain  to  think  lies  all  that  is  lack 
ing  in  what  is  near.  Passe  Rose  sat  motionless 
under  the  oak,  her  chin  on  her  knee ;  but  no 
bird  soaring  over  the  plain  roamed  so  fast  or  so 
free  as  her  thought.  It  was  now  the  third  day, 
and  she  could  scarcely  wait  for  the  night  in  or 
der  to  tell  to  Friedgis  the  answer  she  had  read 
in  the  gospels  ;  for  notwithstanding  the  conse 
quences  of  her  previous  visit  she  was  resolved  at 
least  to  sing,  as  she  had  promised,  the'  cuckoo's 
song  without  the  wall.  Then  the  recollection  of 
her  being  mistaken  for  an  evil  spirit  brought  a 
smile  to  her  lips,  and  —  but  why  repeat  the  idle 
thoughts  of  an  idle  maid  ?  Only  be  it  said  that 
behind  them  all  was  the  image  of  the  king's  cap 
tain,  riding  through  the  forest,  over  the  plain, 
among  the  geese,  —  in  fact,  wherever  Passe 
Rose  turned  her  eyes  ;  while  up  from  her  heart 
welled  the  unsealed  spring,  filling  her  veins  with 
an  unknown  pleasure.  Thus  rises  sometimes  the 
fragrance  of  a  flower  whose  roots  we  cannot  dis 
cover. 

So  distinct  was  the  captain's  image  that  at  the 
sound  of  horses  Passe  Rose  sprang  to  her  feet 


82  PASSE  HOSE. 

without  a  thought  for  her  sandals,  and  ran  bare 
footed  to  the  fringe  of  shrubs  and  young  shoots 
which  screened  the  road.  The  horsemen  had 
disappeared  in  the  gully,  and  parting  the  sweet- 
brier  stems,  Passe  Rose  made  her  way  through 
to  watch  for  their  reappearance  on  the  farther 
side. 

It  was  then  that  Brother  Dominic  was  passing 
on  his  gray  mule.  Unaccustomed  to  such  vio 
lent  motion,  drops  of  perspiration  shone  on  his 
round  face  ;  but  this  he  bore  bravely,  his  dilated 
nostrils  drinking  in  the  odors  of  field  and  wood, 
and  his  hands  clinging  fast  to  the  saddle-pouch, 
both  to  insure  his  own  safety  and  that  of  its 
precious  contents.  From  thinking  how  he 
should  bear  himself  at  court,  pleased  also  at  his 
good  success  in  bestriding  the  mule,  self-esteem 
had  gotten  the  upper-hand  of  humility;  and, 
like  many  who  perceive  what  they  should  have 
said  or  done  only  after  the  occasion  is  past,  he 
devised  imaginary  perils  wherein  to  exercise  his 
superfluous  courage.  "  Fiend  of  hell !  "  thought 
he,  "  another  time  thou  shalt  not  escape  so 
easily ;  "  and  fortified  by  the  bright  sun  and 
pleasant  air,  he  saw  himself  in  Friedgis's  cell, 
advancing  boldly  on  the  demon,  which  trembled 
at  his  approach.  At  this  very  moment,  while 
letting  go  his  hold  to  wipe  away  the  drops  which 
trickled  from  his  forehead  into  his  eyes,  the 


PASSE   ROSE.  83 

gray  mule  thrust  forward  its  ears  at  the  noise  of 
crackling  stems,  and  Brother  Dominic  saw  the 
demon  itself  peering  through  the  copse  beside 
the  road. 

No  sooner  did  Passe  Rose  perceive  the  monk 
than  she  sought  to  retreat,  thinking  her  secret 
would  be  discovered.  But  in  a  thorn  thicket 
advance  is  easier  than  retreat.  Moreover,  it 
was  clear  from  Brother  Dominic's  face  and 
movements  that  he  still  labored  under  his  former 
misapprehension.  His  hand  was  raised  with  a 
show  of  courage,  and  his  lips  moved  valiantly, 
but  terror  was  gaining  upon  him  fast,  and  the 
mule  was  apparently  imbibing  this  emotion  from 
its  master.  It  is  possible  that  it  shook  only  be 
cause  the  latter  was  shaking,  but  Brother  Dom 
inic  had  heard  marvelous  stories  of  animal  saga- 
'city,  and  made  no  doubt  that  his  mule  smelt  the 
fumes  of  hell.  Passe  Eose  would  willingly  have 
sunk  out  of  sight  in  the  ground.  It  was  no 
more  to  her  purpose  to  be  mistaken  for  a  demon 
than  to  be  recognized  as  honest  flesh  and  blood. 
But  the  sight  of  the  monk's  countenance  was  too 
much  for  her  prudence  ;  laughter  rose  to  her 
lips  like  the  spring  sap  in  a  young  tree ;  and  at 
its  sound,  rolling  from  his  mule,  which  he  aban 
doned  with  the  precious  pouch  to  the  protection 
of  the  saints,  Brother  Dominic  fled  with  all  his 
speed,  in  search  of  more  substantial  succor0 


84  PASSE  ROSE. 

Neither  Passe  Rose  nor  the  mule  waited  his 
return.  The  latter  retraced  complacently  its 
steps,  while  the  former  struggled  back  with  less 
deliberation  through  the  thicket.  If  she  thought 
to  regain  her  flock  unnoticed,  it  were  better  to 
have  risked  her  sandals  on  the  stone ;  for  Gui 
of  Tours,  to  whom  the  monk  had  related  with 
such  breath  as  was  left  him  what  had  occurred, 
and  who,  next  to  seeing  Passe  Rose,  was  fain  to 
see  a  demon  in  a  shape  so  pleasing  as  that  the 
monk  described,  having  given  Brother  Dominic 
into  the  care  of  his  followers,  and  dispatched 
one  of  the  latter  after  the  mule,  forced  his  way 
through  the  copse  and  came  upon  Passe  Rose 
herself,  tying  her  sandals  and  still  struggling 
with  suppressed  laughter. 

Passe  Rose  blushed  neither  for  her  short  dress 
nor  her  bare  legs,  but  for  pleasure  and  surprise, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  laughter  she  could  no 
longer  restrain  burst  again  from  her  lips;  for 
Gui  of  Tours,  his  head  still  full  of  the  monk's 
story,  could  not  utter  a  word,  and  the  confusion 
of  his  thought  was  plainly  to  be  seen  in  his  blue 
eyes.  He  stood  like  a  statue,  looking  at  the  girl 
sitting-  among  the  oak  leaves,  tying  her  sandal 
and  laughing,  he  was  sure,  at  him  ;  and  if  for  a 
moment  he  himself  doubted  whether  he  had  to 
do  with  flesh  or  spirit,  Passe  Rose  might  well 
have  forgiven  him  in  view  of  the  merriment  he 


PASSE  ROSE.  85 

afforded  her,  and  the  certainty  she  felt  of  her 
ability  to  set  him  right.  But  the  sound  ot 
voices  in  the  road  brought  her  thought  to  the 
matter  in  hand. 

"  Come  thou  with  me,"  she  said,  springing  to 
her  feet  and  laying  hold  of  his  fur-lined  cloak. 
"  I  have  much  to  tell  thee." 

The  captain  was  surprised  enough  to  see 
Passe  Rose,  but  to  be  pulled  by  the  sleeve  was 
wholly  beyond  expectation.  Gone  was  all 
thought  of  the  king's  service  ;  horses,  followers, 
and  monk  were  as  if  they  never  had  been.  He 
saw  nothing  but  the  hand  which  had  pushed  his 
away  in  the  wood  of  Hesbaye,  now  leading  him 
on,  and  the  eyes,  then  brimming  with  mischief, 
now  divided  between  pleasure  and  fear,  as  they 
glanced  hurriedly  from  his  to  the  place  whence 
the  sounds  came.  Down  the  slope  beside  the 
tumbling  brook,  between  alder  and  hazel,  he 
went  in  a  sort  of  daze,  recovering  his  wits  but 
slowly,  while  those  of  Passe  Rose,  trained  by 
early  experience  not  to  scatter  at  every  emer 
gency,  were  busy  in  her  service.  Knowing 
nothing  of  the  captain's  errand,  she  had  to  think 
only  of  herself,  and  every  glance  at  his  face 
settled  her  first  impulse  into  resolve  ;  for  she 
saw  there  something  hard  to  define,  but  which 
warrants  confidence  without  other  credentials 
than  a  manner  of  speech  or  expression  of  fea 
ture. 


86  PASSE  ROSE. 

"  Hark !  "  she  whispered,  as  they  reached  a 
shelter  of  black  mulberry,  where  the  stream 
dallied  before  spreading  into  the  meadow. 
"  Hark !  "  she  repeated,  her  hand  on  his  arm, 
her  finger  at  her  red  lips,  and  her  ear  turned  to 
the  road. 

Meanwhile  Brother  Dominic,  firmly  per 
suaded  that  the  captain  had  been  carried  off  by 
the  Evil  One,  having  recovered  his  mule,  ar 
gued  it  were  better  to  proceed  on  their  way. 
One  bolder  than  the  others,  a  swaggering  fel 
low  from  Wasconia,  but  faithful  of  heart  and 
daring  of  arm,  swore  he  would  spit  the  Devil 
himself  on  his  sword  rather  than  return  to  Im- 
maburg  without  the  captain,  and  drove  his 
horse  through  the  bushes,  sword  in  hand.  But 
devil  there  was  none  to  spit,  nor  any  trace  of 
the  captain  save  his  horse  browsing  by  the  road 
side  ;  so  that  after  beating  about  in  vain,  reluc 
tantly  and  but  half  convinced,  he  was  forced  to 
agree  with  the  others  that  if  the  captain  were 
alive  he  was  well  able  to  take  care  of  himself ; 
and  if  not,  it  were  a  bootless  search  and  far 
better  to  fulfill  the  king's  service  than  to  waste 
the  king's  time.  Therefore  at  last  they  resumed 
their  journey,  leading  their  master's  horse, 
Brother  Dominic  being  well  satisfied  that  he,  a 
poor  monk,  had  come  out  whole  of  soul  and 
skin  from  a  matter  which  had  cost -the  king  a 
captain. 


PASSE  ROSE.  87 

The  sound  of  voices  had  ceased,  and  from  the 
click  of  retreating  hoofs  on  the  road  Passe  Rose 
knew  that  all  danger  of  pursuit  was  over.  If  she 
had  ventured  alone  at  midnight  into  the  cell  of 
the  Saxon  slave  who  had  treated  her  so  roughly, 
certainly  she  had  no  reason  in  broad  noonday 
to  fear  one  who  had  fastened  her  collar  with 
such  trembling  fingers ;  yet  no  sooner  was  all 
risk  of  interruption  past  than  she  withdrew  her 
hand  quickly  from  the  sleeve  where  it  rested, 
and  the  warm  blood  under  her  skin  rose  without 
leave,  till  her  eyes  swam  and  her  ears  were  filled 
with  its  murmur  ;  and  under  pretense  of  mak 
ing  sure  the  others  had  indeed  gone,  she  ran  out 
to  drown  her  heart-beats  in  the  brook's  prattle, 
and  steady  her  thought  in  the  fresh  sunlight ; 
angry  with  herself,  yet  not  forgetting  to  look  in 
the  water  mirror  to  see,  not  what  was  her  out 
ward  appearance,  but  what  secrets  her  rebel 
face  was  betraying. 

Satisfied  with  what  she  saw,  yet  she  com 
menced  to  be  afraid,  exactly  why,  she  knew  not, 
- —  only  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  some  stronger 
spirit,  having  suddenly  got  lodgment  in  her 
heart  and  driven  her  true  self  out,  danced  and 
sang  in  its  new  abode,  though  too  timid  to  show 
itself.  "  What  ails  thee  ?  "  she  said,  struggling 
to  get  possession  of  her  own  self,  and  forcing 
her  feet  forward  as  the  juggler  moved  those  of 


88  PASSE  ROSE. 

the  puppets  at  St.  Denis's  fair.  Gui  was  just 
on  the  point  of  following  her  to  see  where  she 
had  gone,  when  the  mulberry  branches  parted 
and  there  she  stood  among  their  down-covered 
leaves. 

"  What  did  the  monk  say  to  thee  ?  "  she  asked 
almost  in  a  whisper. 

"That  a  demon  appeared  to  him  in  the 
thicket  as  he  passed  by,"  replied  Gui. 

"  Hast  thou  no  fear  of  evil  spirits  ?  "  said 
Passe  Rose  provokingly,  and  seeking  to  break 
the  force  of  his  gaze. 

So  serious  was  his  gesture  of  scornful  pro 
test  that  she  laughed  aloud,  and  with  her  laugh 
came  back  her  courage. 

"  Sit  down  here,  on  this  moss.  Didst  thou 
hear  aught  of  this  demon  at  the  abbey  ?  " 

"  Aye,  indeed,"  said  the  captain,  obeying  her  ; 
and  he  began  to  relate  what  had  been  told  him 
of  the  abbot's  recovery  and  of  the  demon's  pres 
ence  in  Friedgis's  lodging. 

Standing  above  him  as  he  sat  on  the  moss 
before  her,  Passe  Rose  imagined  that  she  had 
her  enemy,  as  it  were,  under  her  feet,  but  so 
great  was  her  interest  in  what  she  heard  that 
before  he  had  finished  she  was  sitting  beside 
him,  tying  her  loose  sandal  and  listening  intently 
to  every  word. 

"It  is  true,"  she  said,  when  he  had  finished. 


PASSE  ROSE.  89 

"  I  was  there  myself,  but  as  for  issuing  from 
the  abbot's  body,  that  is  impossible.  I  went  in 
by  the  small  gate  that  is  north  of  the  great 
court ;  "  then,  looking  into  his  face,  "  of  all  this 
thou  art  the  cause  and  110  other." 

44 1 !  "  exclaimed  Gui  of  Tours. 

"  Thou,"  said  Passe  Rose,  "  because  of  the  col 
lar  thou  gavest  me.  I  lost  it  in  the  press  on  the 
day  of  the  elevation  of  the  relics,  but  as  I  went 
out "  —  here  Passe  Rose  frowned,  remembering 
the  manner  of  her  exit  —  "I  saw  it  in  the  hand 
of  the  porter.  Give  it  me  he  would  not,  except 
I  came  at  night  ready  to  tell  him  whence  I  had 
it"  — 

"  Dog  of  a  slave !  "  interrupted  the  captain. 

"  Wait,"  said  Passe  Rose.  "  Not  that  I  cared 
for  the  collar,"  she  continued,  blushing,  "  but 
was  vexed  at  the  manner  of  losing  it.  So  at 
midnight  I  knocked  at  the  gate  as  the  porter 
bade  me,  thinking  to  be  gone  before  vigils." 

"  Alone  ?  "  asked  the  astonished  captain. 

"Nay,  my  dagger  was  with  me,"  pursued 
Passe  Rose  gravely.  "The  rest  is  as  thou 
knowest.  I  had  but  entered  when  the  monk 
opened  the  door.  Dieu !  we  frightened  each 
other  well." 

"  But  afterwards  —  the  doors  were  barred." 

"  The  Saxon  hath  a  hole  in  the  wall :  I 
scraped  my  elbow  in  passing  through,"  said 
Passe  Rose,  showing  her  arm. 


90  PASSE  ROSE. 

"The  like  of  this  was  never  heard  before," 
murmured  Gui,  overcome  with  admiration  for 
her  courage,  and  pleased  at  the  value  she  at 
tached  to  the  jewel. 

Passe  Rose,  continuing  her  tale,  related  her 
consultation  with  the  sorceress,  her  vigil  in  the 
chapel  of  St.  Servais,  and  how  she  had  gotten 
the  clerk  to  read  the  verse  in  the  gospels  on  the 
altar. 

"Tell  me  now,"  she  said  in  conclusion, 
"  whence  thou  hadst  the  collar ;  for  I  have 
sworn  to  the  Saxon,  and  will  not  fail  in  my 
promise." 

"  It  came  to  me  fairly  by  right  of  spoil  in  the 
division  of  Ehresberg,"  replied  Gui.  "More 
than  this  I  know  not." 

"  Then  the  Saxon  spoke  truly,"  said  Passe 
Rose  eagerly,  her  thought  reverting  to  the  verse 
the  clerk  had  read  her.  "  Is  there  no  Saxon 
maiden  in  the  king's  household  ?  The  gospels 
said  4  In  kings'  houses.'  " 

Now  Gui,  who  had  been  watching  Passe  Rose 
intently,  although  he  heard  her  question,  was 
thinking  of  other  things. 

"  By  St.  Martin  !  "  she  exclaimed,  rising  to 
her  feet,  "  I  have  a  mind  to  go  and  see." 

The  captain  might  well  have  laughed  at  this 
startling  proposition,  had  not  jealousy  pictured 
consequences  the  mere  thought  of  which  pierced 
his  heart. 


PASSE  ROSE.  91 

"  The  king's  house  is  no  place  for  thee,"  he 
replied  softly,  although  at  that  moment  Passe 
Rose  looked  to  him  worthy  to  sit  in  the  queen's 
seat. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  said  Passe  Rose,  turning  quickly 
and  fixing  her  eyes  on  his. 

"  Because  "  —  stammered  Gui,  "  because," 
—  his  eyes  returned  her  gaze  ;  she  wished  now 
she  had  not  sought  them,  but  withdraw  her  own 
she  would  not,  —  "  because  —  the  king's  house 
is  no  place  for  maiden  feet." 

"  I  fear  no  height !  "  she  exclaimed  impetu 
ously,  suddenly  conscious  that  what  she  said  was 
of  no  importance  and  that  her  eyes,  like  his, 
were  speaking  mightier  words. 

"  There  are  many  who  fain  would  never  have 
climbed,  and  whom  it  were  wiser  to  pity  than  to 
envy,"  said  Gui. 

"  I  pity  no  mountain  top  for  the  storms  about 
its  summit,"  retorted  Passe  Rose  hotly,  endeavor- 
ing  in  vain  now  to  avert  what  she  knew  his  eyes 
could  no  longer  contain. 

44  And  I  swear  if  thou  goest,"  cried  the  youth 
passionately,  leaping  to  his  feet  as  a  sword 
flashes  from  the  scabbard,  "  thou  goest  with  me 
only." 

They  stood  for  a  moment  face  to  face,  trem 
bling,  each  afraid  to  take  a  step  in  the  new  world 
God  had  suddenly  created.  Passe  Rose  strug- 


92  PASSE  ROSE. 

gled  hard  to  repress  the  flush  of  pleasure  which 
rose  to  her  cheeks,  —  pleasure,  however,  which 
the  captain  did  not  discover,  for  the  girl  frowned, 
and,  fool  that  he  was,  he  thought  her  vexed.  So 
at  this  frown  he  hesitated,  and  in  an  instant  that 
new  world  disappeared  like  the  sun  behind  a 
passing  cloud.  One  would  say  both  were  vexed 
now  in  earnest,  for  Passe  Eose  turned,  saying 
she  would  go  her  own  way  and  do  her  own 
errand.  Gui  followed  her  moodily  out  from  un 
der  the  mulberries  into  the  meadow,  finding  no 
word  to  utter. 

"  What  is  thy  business  in  Maestricht  ?  "  she 
said  carelessly. 

44  My  faith,"  answered  the  captain,  faltering 
like  a  boy  caught  in  wrong-doing,  "  I  came  on 
the  king's  business." 

44 On  the  king's  business!"  exclaimed  Passe 
Rose. 

44  To  inquire  after  the  abbot's  health." 
44  On  the  king's  business !  "   repeated  Passe 
Rose  angrily,  "and  thou  loiterest  here  with  a 
flock  of  geese  in  a  meadow !  " 

44  Ah,"  -—  began  the  captain  reproachfully, 
seizing  her  hand. 

44  Nay,  nay,  nay,"  cried  Passe  Rose,  disen 
gaging  her  hand,  —  for  love  will  show  itself  un 
awares  at  the  window  of  solicitude  when  it  will 
not  pass  the  door  of  its  own  pleasure,  —  "  get 


PASSE  ROSE.  93 

thee  gone —  thy  men  are  off  — what  will  the 
king  say?"  Her  alarm  was  unfeigned,  and 
though  it  transformed  the  lover  into  the  captain 
in  a  twinkling,  the  cloud  was  passed  off  from 
the  sun.  "  Fire  and  blood !  where  were  thy 
wits  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  as  they  scrambled  up  the 
slope  together. 

"  If  they  have  but  left  me  my  horse,"  said  he, 
outrunning  her. 

But  on  breaking  through  the  hedgerow  they 
found  the  road  deserted.  Passe  Rose  was  breath 
ing  hard,  the  slope  being  steep,  and  she  made 
no  effort  to  conceal  either  her  anxiety  or  her 
vexation.  But  Gui  had  recovered  the  wits  she 
taxed  him  with  losing ;  for  it  was  easier  far  to 
face  the  king  in  displeasure  than  a  laughing 
maid  who  teased  him. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  fret  over,"  he  said,  as 
they  hurried  along  the  road  to  Maestricht.  "  A 
horse  is  always  to  be  had  in  the  king's  name, 
and  I  will  catch  the  monk's  mule  before  it 

reaches  the  wood  of  Hesbaye.     But  listen," 

stopping   short   at   the   thought    which    flashed 
upon  him,  —  "  the  monk  goes  to  the  king  with 
the  tale  of  the  demon  in  parchment." 
"  In  parchment !  "  gasped  Passe  Rose. 
"  Aye,  so  the  prior  told  me.     Shall  I  stuff  the 
scroll  down  his  throat  ?  "  asked  Gui  eagerly. 
"Nay,"  said  Passe  Rose,  reflecting,  "  that  will 


94  PASSE  ROSE. 

avail  nothing,  —  he  hath  it  by  heart ; "  then 
laughing  aloud,  "let  the  bird  fly  till  it  suits  us 
to  cast  the  lure." 

"  I  will  tell  him  I  slew  the  fiend,"  suggested 
the  captain,  whose  ideas  multiplied. 

"  Aye,"  cried  Passe  Eose,  clapping  her  hands, 
"  and  for  a  token  show  him  the  collar,"  and  un 
fastening  it  from  her  neck  she  began  to  clasp  it 
on  his  arm.     It  was  loose  enough  at  her  throat, 
but   it  fitted  the   captain's  arm   closely,  —  so 
closely  that  she  was  forced  to  press  the  skin 
from  between  the  clasps  to  adjust  it  firmly.    "  If 
thou  art  free  to  go  among  the  queen's  house 
hold,"  she  said,  bending  her  head  over  her  task, 
"  watch  the  eyes  of  her  women,  for  the  eye  which 
recognizes  this  will   answer  its   sparkle.     Ask 
also  among  them  for  a  Saxon  maid  whose  name 
is  Kothilde,  and  when  thou  hast  aught  to  tell 
me,  come  this  way  again." 

There  was  something  so  promising  in  these 
words  that  Gui  was  not  only  sure  to  come,  but 
unable  to  go  at  all. 

"  Where  shall  I  find  thee  ?  "  he  whispered. 
"  At  the  church  of  St.  Sebastian,  at  vespers. 
Farewell,  and  hasten." 

He  was  loath  to  part  so  abruptly,  but  Passe 
Rose  shook  both  her  hands  forbiddingly,  and 
seeing  him  hesitate,  stamped  her  foot  so  im 
peratively  that  he  was  fain  to  obey.  Half  way 


PASSE  ROSE.  95 

down  the  hill,  where  the  road  curved,  he  turned 
to  see  her  still  standing  watching  him,  and  to 
catch  her  hand's  signal,  "  Farewell,  and  hasten." 

Thus  it  was  that  Passe  Rosd.  ii\  spite  of  the 
fay's  injunction,  parted  ^lumarily  with  her 
collar.  As  for  the  captain,  it  was  not  until 
after  rejoining  his  companions  in  the  wood  of 
Hesbaye,  as  the  towers  of  Immaburg  appeared 
among  the  oak-trees,  that  in  rehearsing  for  the 
twentieth  time  his  interview  with  the  demon  he 
recollected  there  was  any  other  maid  in  the 
world  beside  Passe  Rose,  or  that  he  had  been 
bidden  to  seek  a  Saxon  whose  name  was  Ro- 
thilde. 

"  Nay,  that  is  impossible,"  he  said  to  himself, 
thinking  of  Rothilde,  the  queen's  favorite,  whom 
the  king  had  refused  his  father,  Robert  of 
Tours,  in  marriage.  "Nay,  that  is  impos 
sible." 

VIII. 

Except  the  shepherds,  who  passed  the  sum 
mer  nights  abroad  with  the  flocks,  Friedgis,  of 
all  the  abbey  inmates,  possessed  most  time  to 
brood  over  his  condition.  The  laborers  returned 
from  the  fields  to  finish  their  evening  tasks  and 
seek  their  guerdon  of  sleep  ;  the  monks,  whose 
minutely  regulated  day  left  small  loop-hole  for 


96  PASSE  ROSE. 

indolence,    lay   down   without   divesting    them 
selves   of   hose   or   tunic ;  but   Friedgis,    when 
night  came,   was  neither  overcome  with  labor 
nor  concerned  with  spiritual  tasks.     Indeed,  the 
prior,  in  assigning  him  to  the  care  of  the  hospi 
taler,  had  greatly  endangered  the  latter^s  soul. 
For,  having  now  a  slave  to  assist  him,  this  func 
tionary  committed   to  Friedgis   all  the  menial 
share  of  his  duties,  and  passed  the  time  thus 
ransomed  in  his  little  garden,  which  he  dearly 
loved,  or  in  pretended  offices  for  the  guests.     It 
is  probable  that  the  abbot,  had  he  not  fallen 
sick,  would  have  perceived  the  temptations  which 
thus  assailed  the  almoner  — who,  for  that  mat 
ter,  was  free  of  guile,  liking  only  to  sit  on  a 
bench  in  the  sun  twirling  his  thumbs,  or  to  watch 
the  savory  growing  in  the  plot  without  the  vesti 
bule.     As  for  the  prior,  he  was  remarkable  for 
seeing  everything  and  observing  nothing,  a  trait 
which  endeared  him  to  many. 

Waiting  the  visit  of  Passe  Rose  with  a  sombre 
impatience,  long  before  complines  Friedgis  had 
brought  the  materials  for  the  morning  baking  of 
sacramental  bread  to  the  small  room  adjoining 
the  sacristy,  and,  having  prepared  the  oil  for 
lighting  the  church,  when  the  service  was  over 
and  the  priests  had  put  off  their  vestments, 
closed  the  sacristy  and  retired  to  his  own  cham 
ber.  Barring  the  door  behind  him,  and  hiding 


PASSE  ROSE.  97 

the  lamp  in  the  embrasure,  he  withdrew  care 
fully  the  stone  from  the  wall,  toid,  lying  down 
on  the  floor,  listened  for  the  cuckoo's  call. 

It  were  a  curious,  were  it  not  an  invariable 
fact,  that  of  all  the  representations  within  the 
reach  of  memory  those  which  afflict  us  are  ever 
uppermost.  The  heart  treasures  its  losses,  and 
remembers  best  what  it  regrets.  His  eyes  wide 
open,  Friedgis  stared  into  the  darkness,  for  the 
light  was  so  feeble  that  the  walls  of  his  room 

O 

were  barely  visible.  Without  the  aperture  could 
be  heard  the  plaintive  sound  of  the  wind ; 
within,  the  flicker  of  the  flame  set  gigantic 
shadows  in  motion  ;  and  imagination,  roused  by 
a  subtle  contagion,  responded  to  these  sense  im 
pressions,  making  the  wind  voices  and  moving- 
shadows  the  creatures  of  its  own  invention.  The 
walls  of  his  narrow  chamber  receded  altogether 
from  the  dreamer's  sight.  He  was  no  longer 
lying  on  the  stone  floor,  but  under  the  swaying 
branches  of  lofty  trees,  through  which  the  stars 
shone,  —  as  when,  a  summer  ago,  defiling  through  \ 
the  great  Hercynian  forest,  the  army  of  Karle, 
with  its  captives,  had  halted  for  the  night  at 
the  springs  of  the  Lippe.  Northward,  the  slopes 
of  the  Teutoburger  Wald,  whence  Hermann  had 
burst  upon  the  legions  of  Varus,  were  studded 
with  camp-fires ;  from  the  heights  southward 
they  flared  on  the  distant  towers  of  Paderborn, 


98  PASSE  ROSE. 

,  whither  the  king  had  gone  to  celebrate  the  feast 
\of  the  Nativity  of  the  Virgin ;  and  in  the  valley 
between,  where  the  bulk  of  the  army  lay  en 
camped,  thickly  clustered  along  the  river  they 
formed  a  confused  glare,  which  traversed  the 
plain  of  sombre  forest  like  the  Milky  Way 
above,  ablaze  with  light  and  fringed  with  solitary 
stars. 

The  road,  which,  ascending  the  valley  of  the 
Alme,  debouched  on  the  plains  of  Sindfeld,  had 
been  thronged  for  days  with  fugitives.     From 
the  tower  windows  of  Ehresberg,  where,  a  score 
or  more  years  before,  the  king  had  pillaged  the 
heathen  temple  of  Irminsul  and  overthrown  its 
idol,  the  young  Queen  Liutgarde  could  see  the 
bands  of  foot-sore  exiles  which,  under  Frankish 
escort,  were  being  dispersed  through  Austrasia, 
Neustria,  and  Burgundy,  —  remnants  of  a  peo- 
[ple    whose    spirit   fourteen   ruthless   campaigns 
)  had  not  broken.     Despairing  of  destroying  this 
nationality  with  fire  and  the  sword,  the  king 
wished  now  to  dissolve  it  by  scattering  its  frag 
ments  throughout  the  Empire.     The  great  roads 
leading    to  the    Rhine   were    encumbered    with 
soldiery  returning  to  their  homes,  and  colonists 
who  passed  on  their  way  those  whom  they  dis 
possessed.     Paderborn  was  given  over  to  rejoi 
cing.     Anthems  of  thanksgiving  succeeded  the 
solemn  masses  of  the  spring,  when  the  favor  of 


PASSE  ROSE.  99 

Heaven  had  been  implored  upon  the  expedition. 
Those  whom  the  clergy  had  then  forbidden  to 
indulge  in  meat  or  wine  now  feasted  without 
restraint,  and  instead  of  paying  their  deniers 
into  the  treasury  of  the  Church  divided  the 
spoils  abandoned  them  from  the  share  of  their 
chiefs.  The  arrival  of  couriers  from  Pannonia, 
announcing  the  successful  opening  of  the  war 
against  the  Avars,  contributed  to  the  general 
joy ;  and  the  beloved  daughters  of  the  king, 
then  in  the  splendor  of  their  beauty,  had  has 
tened  from  Mainz  to  welcome  their  victorious 
father. 

As  the  night  waned  the  noises  of  the  camp 
had  gradually  ceased.  The  horseman  had  teth 
ered  his  steed;  the  foot-soldier  had  taken  off 
his  leathern  corselet  and  helmet  of  bronze  ;  and 
the  captive,  lying  down  with  the  oxen  released 
from  the  yoke,  among  his  own  flocks,  dreamed 
of  the  pastures  of  Bardengaw  he  should  see  no 
more.  Having  wasted  the  land  of  the  Saxons 
from  Frisia  to  the  Elbe,  this  vast  army,  en 
cumbered  with  hostages  and  booty,  like  some 
wild  animal  gorged  with  blood  and  heavy  with 
drowsiness,  had  stretched  itself  upon  the  ground 
to  sleep. 

Through  the  midst  of  this  slumbering  host 
moved  a  monk,  clad  in  the  black  robe  of  the 
Benedictines.  The  flickering  fires,  leaping  mo- 


100  PASSE  ROSE. 

mentarily  into  life,  scarce  lighted  his  face,  thin 
with  fasting  and  worn  by  the  fatigues  of  the 
inarch,  but  the  flame  of  a  tireless  zeal  burned 
in  his  eyes.     Passing  like  a  shadow  between  the 
tents  of  the  guards,  among  the  sleeping  forms 
of  the  Franks,  alone,  he  still  pursued  his  mission 
of  warning  and  comfort  among  those  whom  the 
king  had   torn  from  their  native  land  to  trans 
plant  to  Frankish  soil.     For  him  there  was  no 
truce  of  peace,  no  night  of  rest.     In  the  midst 
of  these  blood-stained  warriors  overcome  with 
toils,  he  was  the  incarnation  of  that  sleepless 
spirit  of  holy  love,  so  strangely  blended  with  the 
fury  of  a  war  which  had  laid  a  province  in  ashes 
in  the  name  of  the  all-blessed  Christ ;  and  in 
the   stillness  of   the    night,  when  the  clang  of 
armor  was    hushed    and  the  sword  was  in   its 
sheath,  it  seemed  as  if  this  divine  spirit  walked 
abroad  in  his  person  on  its  errand  of  minister 
ing  grace. 

In  an  open  space,  made  in  the  thick  wood  by 
the  spreading  branches  of  an  oak,  a  girl  lay 
asleep.  The  smouldering  fire,  stirred  at  times 
by  the  wind  into  flame,  threw  its  red  light  upon 
her  face  ;  then,  subsiding  with  the  breeze,  left 
it  to  the  darkness.  Daughter  of  an  Angrian 
chief  slain  on  the  banks  of  the  Weser,  her  dress, 
though  soiled  by  the  dust  of  the  march,  betok 
ened  her  rank.  A  fringe  of  gold  bordered  the 


PASSE  ROSE.  101 

tunic,  whose  girdle  was  embroidered  with  silk 
and  pearls.  A  gold  collar  engraved  with  Eastern 
characters,  loot  from  the  Huns  of  the  Danube, 
encircled  her  neck,  and  an  agraffe  of  enameled 
bronze  fastened  the  cloak  over  her  breast.  Her 
yellow  hair,  whose  braids  had  become  loosened, 
fell  unconfined  over  her  shoulders,  and  a  child 
lay  asleep  on  her  knees.  Homeless  and  alone 
like  herself,  lost  in  the  confusion  of  the  camp, 
it  had  crept  to  her  side  at  nightfall,  and,  touched 
with  pity,  she  had  wrapped  it  in  the  fold  of  her 
cloak.  At  a  little  distance,  stretched  at  full 
length  in  the  shadow,  Friedgis  watched  the 
sleeper,  lifting  his  head  at  every  sound.  So 
vivid  now  was  his  memory  of  the  scene  that, 
lying  on  his  chamber  floor,  he  drew  his  garment 
closer,  as  if  the  night  air  still  chilled  the  wound 
which,  then  unhealed,  burned  under  the  tunic 
of  otter-skin  torn  open  on  his  breast.  A  soldier, 
stupid  with  wine,  stumbled  to  the  river  to 
quench  his  thirst,  and  returned  to  his  couch  of 
leaves.  The  child  opened  its  eyes ;  then,  reas 
sured  by  the  girl's  presence,  fell  asleep  again. 

Suddenly  from  out  the  shadows  along  the 
river-bank  a  tall  form  emerged  into  the  firelight. 
The  long  hair  escaping  from  the  gorget  indicated 
one  of  noble  blood,  and  the  helmet  bore  the 
crest  of  the  king's  guard.  Followed  by  two 
men-at-arms,  the  Frank  advanced  into  the  open 


102  PASSE  ROSE. 

space,  when  he  stopped,  casting  a  quick  look 
about  him  ;  then,  motioning  his  companions  to 
remain  within  call,  approached  softly  over  the 
turf  of  moss  and  stooped  above  the  prostrate 
form  of  the  sleeper,  as  if  to  assure  himself  that 
it  was  she  whom  he  sought.  The  collar  of  gold 
shone  as  the  flame  leaped,  but  it  was  not  its 
glitter  which  tempted  the  eye  of  the  Frank. 
Friedgis,  unobserved,  raised  himself  upon  his 
hands.  His  arms  trembled;  his  lips  were 
parted ;  his  eye,  seeking  eagerly  some  weapon, 
glistened.  The  chain  which  had  supported  his 
shield  hung  broken  about  his  neck  ;  all  else  had 
been  lost  in  the  fight.  As  the  Frank,  signing 
to  his  followers  to  approach,  laid  his  hand  upon 
the  woman's  shoulder,  the  monk,  coming  out  of 
the  gloom  of  the  wood,  confronted  him.  Sur 
prised,  the  warrior  retreated  a  step,  then,  draw 
ing  himself  up  haughtily,  waited  till  the  monk 
should  pass. 

"Kobert,  Count  of  Tours,"  said  the  latter, 
"  what  errand  of  the  king  doest  thou  here  ?  " 

There  was  a  cold  irony  in  the  monk's  voice 
which  brought  the  blood  of  shame  and  ill-sup 
pressed  anger  to  the  soldier's  face. 

"  And  thou,  shaven  head,  whose  cursed  race 
the  king  has  banished  from  the  camp,  have  a 
care  for  thy  hood  !  "  and,  loosing  his  sword  from 
its  belt,  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  hilt. 


PASSE  ROSE.  103 

Undismayed,  the  monk  stood  between  the  cap 
tive  and  her  assailant.  Friedgis,  crouching  on 
his  elbows  in  the  shadow,  watched  and  listened. 

"  Stand  aside,  dog  of  a  priest !  The  maid  is 
mine." 

"  She  is  God's,"  replied  the  monk  calmly. 

"  I  will  send  him  thee  in  her  stead,"  answered 
the  count  with  an  oath,  drawing  the  blade  from 
his  cloak.  But  something  of  authority  in  the 
voice  and  mien  of  his  opponent  restrained  his 
arm.  "Who  stands  between  me  and  mine?" 
he  asked  hoarsely  before  he  struck. 

"  I !  "  said  the  monk,  stepping  forward  into 
the  light  and  throwing  back  his  hood. 

It  was  Rainal,  friend  and  counselor  of  Karle. 

Here  in  the  night  of  the  forest  the  two  great 
powers  of  the  age  stood  face  to  face.  Force,  in 
satiate  and  brutal,  wandering  over  the  Empire 
like  a  Fury  with  the  torch  of  destruction,  —  driv 
ing  the  laborer  from  his  field,  the  patrician  from 
his  villa,  the  king  from  his  throne,  and  pursuing 
its  victims  to  the  foot  of  the  altar,  —  and  that 
perilous  power  of  the  priest,  whose  only  author 
ity  was  a  moral  one,  received  from  an  invisible 
Prince,  whose  riches  excited  envy,  whose  cen 
sure  awoke  wrath,  and  who,  alone,  defenseless, 
on  the  steps  of  the  altar  wet  with  the  blood  of 
the  feeble,  represented  the  principles  of  charity 
and  justice  amid  the  ruins  of  society. 


104  PASSE  HOSE. 

Roused  by  the  voices  from  dreams  of  the 
Weser,  where  her  kindred  had  fallen  and  her 
Saxon  home  still  smoked,  the  girl  raised  her 
head.  Her  assailant,  trembling  with  a  passion 
foiled,  but  fearful  of  the  power  he  had  evoked, 
quailed  before  the  calm  gaze  of  the  priest.  The 
naked  sword  in  his  grasp  quivered  like  the 
hound  in  leash,  but  the  strength  of  the  hand  on 
the  haft  was  gone,  and  with  a  look  of  hate  prom 
ising  revenge  the  Frankish  noble  slunk  away. 

"Daughter,  thy  name?"  asked  the  priest 
gently  in  her  own  tongue. 

"  Rothilde,"  she  replied  in  a  dull  voice,  lifting 
her  eyes  to  his  face. 

"  Rothilde,"  he  repeated,  drawing  from  his 
robe  a  silver  flask  enriched  with  gems,  and  lay 
ing  his  hand  on  her  shining  hair,  "  I  baptize  thee 
in  the  name  of  the  one  God,  invisible,  glorious, 
and  eternal,  and  of  his  ever-blessed  Son,  and  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  three  in  one  Godhead  of  all 
power  and  perfection,  reigning  the  same  for 
ever." 

Immovable,  her  head  thrown  back,  her  eyes 
remained  fixed  upon  the  priest  with  the  impas 
sive  look  of  the  barbarian,  indifferent  to  her  cap 
tor  and  her  fate.  An  expression  of  profound 
discouragement  passed  over  Rainal's  face.  How 
often  had  these  words  of  blessed  benediction 
fallen  fruitless  from  his  lips,  lost  in  the  night  of 


7.RY 


PASSE  ROSE. 

the  heathen  mind  as  the  sparks  which  rose  from 
the  fire  in  short  spiral  flights  were  lost  in  the 
darkness  overhead ! 

"  The  kings  of  Babylon  carried  their  captives 
of  old  to  a  land  of  false  gods,  but  ye  are  the  cap 
tives  of  the  true  God.  Through  humiliation  he 
opens  the  way  of  repentance,  and  in  sorrow  dis 
covers  the  gates  of  life."  Saying  which,  sigh 
ing,  he  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  above  her 
head,  and  disappeared. 

The  sound  of  his  footfall  had  not  ceased  when 
Friedgis,  rising  softly  to  his  feet,  stole  to  the 
girl's  side.  The  latter  turned  her  head  at  his 
approach,  and  smiled.  Night  after  night  dur 
ing  the  long  march  she  had  closed  her  eyes  in 
the  consciousness  of  protection,  and  his  pres 
ence  now  seemed  to  excite  in  her  no  surprise. 
Neither  understood  the  conversation  they  had 
heard,  nor  knew  the  speakers.  Neither  needed 
to.  The  language  and  the  forms  of  passion  and 
charity  are  known  of  all. 

"  Some  water,"  she  whispered  as  he  bent  over 
her. 

He  went  to  the  bank,  gathered  the  cool  water 
in  the  hollow  of  his  hands,  and  offered  it  to  her 
with  a  look  of  mingled  solicitude  and  love.  She 
drank  eagerly,  touching  her  lips  to  his  hands. 
Taking  the  child  from  her  lap,  and  laying  it  in 
a  grassy  hollow  between  the  roots  of  the  tree,  he 


106  PASSE  ROSE. 

made  a  pillow  of  her  cloak ;  and,  as  if  soothed 
by  his  presence,  unable  to  contend  with  fatigue, 
she  laid  her  head  upon  it  without  a  word,  and 
closed  her  eyes.  The  smile  still  lingered  011  her 
face  ;  it  was  a  beautiful  one,  although  the  mouth 
was  too  round  and  small,  the  nose  too  pointed, 
the  features  too  irregular  ;  nevertheless  it  pos 
sessed  that  which  charms  the  eye  because  it  first 
gains  the  heart.  Something  of  timidity,  of 
sweetness,  something  of  the  irresponsibility  and 
childishness  with  which  certain  natures  defy 
time  and  invoke  forbearance,  was  to  be  seen  in 
her  limpid  but  shrinking  blue  eye,  in  her  fugi 
tive  smile,  even  in  her  attitudes  and  gestures. 
For  a  long  time  Friedgis  sat  looking  into  this 
face.  The  fire  had  gone  out.  The  breeze  had 
wandered  away.  The  only  sounds  were  the 
slumbrous  flow  of  the  river  and  the  low  breath 
ing  of  the  sleeper.  More  softly  even  than  he 
came  he  returned  at  length  to  his  place  in  the 
shadow.  He  also  was  overcome  with  weariness 
and  the  heavy  summer  night.  For  days  he  had 
walked  beside  her  cart,  shielding  her  from  insult 
and  sharing  with  her  his  food ;  for  many  a  night 
he  had  watched  while  she  slept.  .  .  . 

Suddenly  there  was  the  blast  of  a  horn 
mingled  with  the  neighing  of  steeds  and  the 
cries  of  hoarse  voices.  He  woke  with  a  start. 
The  east  was  flushed  with  red,  and  the  morning 


PASSE  ROSE.  107 

light  filled  the  wood.     The  child  was  crying  at 
the  foot  of  the  tree,  but  the  girl  was  gone. 

With  the  same  quick  cry  which  had  burst  from 
his  lips  on  the  banks  of  the  Lippe,  Friedgis  started 
from  his  dream.  There  were  neither  horses, 
nor  men,  nor  morning  sun.  He  stood  trembling 
in  his  narrow  room.  The  lamp  burned  feebly 
in  the  embrasure,  and  the  sound  of  the  horn  was 
the  song  of  the  cuckoo  without  the  abbey  wall. 


IX. 


For  a  moment  Friedgis  stood  still,  listening. 

"  He  does  not  hear,"  thought  Passe  Rose, 
impatient,  without,  and  again  the  cuckoo's  late 
summer  cry  sounded  plaintively,  close  under 
the  wall. 

Extinguishing  the  taper  and  drawing  the 
bolt  noiselessly,  Friedgis  crossed  the  inner  court 
by  the  great  gate  through  which  Gui  had  en 
tered,  to  the  small  door  in  the  north  wall.  Paus 
ing  again  to  listen,  but  hearing  no  sound,  he 
opened  it  cautiously  the  width  of  his  body.  The 
night  was  dark,  and  he  could  see  nothing. 

"  Is  it  thou  ?  "  whispered  Passe  Rose. 

"  Enter,"  said  Friedgis,  drawing  back. 

"  Nay ;  come  thou  out,"  replied  Passe  Rose 
decisively. 


108  PASSE  HOSE. 

Friedgis  stepped  over  the  stone  sill,  closing 
the  gate  softly  behind  him.  Not  yet  accustomed 
to  the  darkness,  he  stood  peering  about  him. 

"  Here  —  where  are  thine  eyes  ?  Hush  !  " 
said  Passe  Rose,  as  a  twig  snapped  under  his 
foot.  "  Thou  wilt  have  all  the  dogs  in  the  yard 
a-baying.  Follow  me." 

The  dim  outlines  of  her  form  moved  before 
him  down  the  path  leading  to  the  fish-ponds, 
where  was  a  wooden  bench  at  the  edge  of  the 
water. 

"  They  say  fishes  have  no  ears,"  she  whis 
pered,  pulling  him  by  the  skirt  to  the  seat  be 
side  her.  "How  fares  the  abbot?  Hath  the 
demon  returned  to  vex  him  ?  "  Unable  to  dis 
cern  her  face,  Friedgis  heard  her  laughing. 
"  In  my  country,"  pursued  she,  "  the  little  chil 
dren  have  a  pastime  called  '  the  devil  and  the 
saints.'  At  a  signal,  one,  being  the  devil,  is 
sues  from  a  bush  and  seeks  to  catch  the  others, 
who  run  from  tree  to  tree.  These  trees  are  the 
holy  altars.  There  being  more  who  play  than 
there  are  trees,  some  soul  is  always  lost.  When 
the  chase  is  hot  and  the  devil  runs  well,  it  is 
very  amusing.  I  have  a  mind  to  play  this  game 
yonder,"  nodding  in  the  direction  of  the  abbey. 
"  What  thinkest  thou,  —  would  they  run  or  no, 
if  I  looked  in  at  the  dormitory  door  ?  If  thou 
couldst  but  have  seen  the  monk  who  set  out  for 


PASSE  ROSE.  109 

Immaburg  this  morning  !  He  had  a  rare  chance. 
The  selfsame  devil  appeared  to  him  by  the  road 
side.  By  good  luck  I  was  there  at  the  very  in 
stant."  And  Passe  Rose  was  seized  with  un 
controllable  laughter. 

"  One  would  say  she  is  crazy,"  thought  Fried- 
gis.  "  Dost  thou  wander  over  the  country  both 
by  day  and  by  night  ?  "  he  asked  mockingly. 

"  By  St.  Martin !  "  rejoined  Passe  Rose 
angrily,  "what  is  that  to  thee?  Came  I  here 
for  my  pleasure  ?  I  had  best  minded  mine  own 
business,  and  left  thine  to  thee."  She  rose 
quickly,  as  if  going  away,  but  Friedgis,  remain 
ing  silent,  heard  her  soon  returning.  "Are 
there  sorceresses  among  thy  people,  father 
bear  ? "  she  asked,  sitting  down  again  beside 
him.  "  It  is  strange,"  she  pursued,  as  if  solilo 
quizing,  —  "  certainly  it  is  strange.  Thou  canst 
not  see  me  who  am  under  thy  nose,  yet  this 
woman,  albeit  blind,  perceives  at  a  distance  of 
twenty  thousand  paces."  A  star,  appearing 
between  the  clouds,  glistened  in  the  pond. 
Passe  Rose  went  to  the  water's  edge  and  leaned 
over  the  low  bank.  "  How  deep  it  looks  !  "  she 
said ;  "  nevertheless  the  bottom  is  but  the 
length  of  my  arm."  And  as  the  clouds  broke 
away  Friedgis  saw  her,  in  the  starlight,  probing 
the  water  with  a  branch  of  willow.  Indicating 
the  depth  by  her  finger,  she  held  up  the  branch 


110  PASSE  ROSE. 

that  he  might  see.  "  There  are  many  things 
that  cannot  be  explained,"  she  said,  shaking  her 
head. 

"  Look,"  she  whispered,  after  a  silence,  throw 
ing  back  her  cloak  from  her  throat,  "  the  col 
lar  is  gone.  Canst  thou  see?  I  once  knew 
a  Greek  who  worked  in  gold.  He  pretended 
to  have  made  earrings  for  the  Empress  Irene, 
so  delicately  designed  "  —  and  Passe  Rose  half 
closed  her  eyes  in  a  manner  peculiar  to  her  — 
"that  one  could  not  see  the  hook  because  of 
doves  with  spread  wings.  In  truth  he  worked 
well,  though  he  was  a  boaster.  His  hands  were 
like  mine,  and  his  hair  was  perfumed.  He  as 
serted  that  his  nation  once  governed  the  world," 
she  said,  with  a  scornful  laugh.  "  What  was 
I  saying?  —  ah,  yes.  There  are  many  things 
which  cannot  be  explained."  She  moved  the 
stick  to  and  fro,  watching  the  ripple  rock  the 
stars. 

Approaching  her  suddenly  with  an  abrupt 
exclamation  of  impatience,  Friedgis  tore  the 
branch  from  her  hand  and  threw  it  into  the 
water.  "  What  hast  thou  to  tell  me?  "  he  said 
threateningly. 

"  They  that  wear  soft  clothing  dwell  in  kings' 
houses,"  said  Passe  Rose. 

"  In  truth  she  is  mad,"  thought  he,  looking 
down  into  her  eyes. 


PASSE  ROSE.  Ill 

•'  In  kings'  houses,"  repeated  Passe  Eose  sig 
nificantly. 

"  Or  foolish,"  he  said  to  himself,  turning 
away. 

"  Sit  thee  down  here,  by  me.  No  ?  Well, 
then,  have  thine  own  way.  In  a  strange  land 
one  mistrusts  every  one.  That  is  not  just.  We 
are  like  other  people,  —  the  same  as  thine,  — 
some  are  good,  some  are  bad."  Then,  seeing 
he  was  indeed  going,  she  called  aloud  to  him. 
"  Thou  dost  not  trust  me ;  but  if  I  told  thee  the 
maid  was  found"  —  she  let  fall  the  words 
slowly  one  by  one  —  "  at  Aix  —  in  the  king's 
household  —  Ah  !  "  she  cried,  as  he  turned,  his 
eyes  glistening,  "  at  last !  " 

"  At  Aix?  "  echoed  Friedgis*doubtfully. 

"  Near  by,"  said  Passe  Rose,  indicating  the 
direction  with  her  head,  "near  by.  But  in 
the  king's  household  —  ah,  in  the  king's  house 
hold,  near  is  far,  like  the  star  in  the  pond.  I 
see  very  well  thou  dost  not  believe  me,"  she 
continued,  observing  his  face ;  "  nevertheless  it 
is  true.  The  gospels  said  in  the  king's  house 
hold." 

"  The  gospels  ?  "  he  said  after  her,  advancing 
a  step. 

"  Ay,  the  gospels  ;  knowest  thou  not  what  are 
the  gospels?"  said  Passe  Rose  disdainfully 
leaning  over  the  water  and  recapturing  the 


112  PASSE  ROSE. 

branch.  "  The  gospels  lie  on  the  holy  altars. 
There  are  the  psalms,  which  are  quite  another 
thing ;  also  the  gospels,  —  they  are  altogether 
different.  It  is  not  easy  to  explain.  But  have 
no  fear,  I  speak  truly ;  a  clerk  in  the  church  of 
St.  Sebastian  read  me  the  words  plainly,  —  in 
kings'  houses.  Wait,  we  shall  see."  Observ 
ing,  however,  that  these  words  made  little  im 
pression  upon  him,  she  dropped  another  spark 
upon  his  duller  sense.  "  Certainly  it  is  strange. 
Thy  collar  follows  thee  from  Ehresberg  to  the 
shrine  of  St.  Servais,  and  thou  wilt  not  seek  its 
owner  though  I  tell  thee  she  is  under  thy  hand 
at  Aix.  It  is  wonderful  that  after  being  lost  at 
Ehresberg,  where  the  spoil  was  divided,  —  scat 
tered  like  beads  spilled  upon  the  ground, — 
thy  collar  should  be  found  in  a  great  wood  like 
that  of  Hesbaye.  That  truly  is  hard  to  under 
stand,"  and  Passe  Rose  nodded  her  head  slowly. 
"  Aix  is  so  near." 

While  the  girl  was  speaking  Friedgis  had  sat 
down  on  the  bench.  "  Why  not  tell  me  all  thou 
knowest  ?  "  he  said,  searching  her  face  wistfully. 

"  Dear  Saxon,"  laughed  Passe  Rose,  leaping 
to  her  feet  and  seating  herself  beside  him,  "  thou 
hast  such  thirst  thou  wouldst  empty  the  cup 
at  a  draught,  rfave  patience.  Do  the  cruets  in 
thy  country  empty  themselves  at  one  turning  ? 
Wait,  I  will  tell  thee  all,  —  for  that  am  I  come. 


PASSE  ROSE.  113 

And  if  I  tell  thee,  it  is  because  I  trust  tliee  in 
deed.  I  have  a  friend  among  the  stars,"  she 
continued  in  a  confiding  tone.  "  Didst  thou  see 
the  youth  who  came  to  inquire  after  the  abbot's 
health  ?  It  is  he  who  lost  the  collar  in  the  wood, 
and  it  is  he  who  will  seek  the  maid  among  the 
queen's  household.  For  me  he  will  catch  the 
wind  in  a  net.  He  hath  thy  collar  now,  and  will 
wear  it  in  the  eyes  of  all.  Will  not  the  maid 
recognize  her  own  ?  Tell  me,  is  she  fair,  —  fairer 
than  I  ? 

"  Oh,  as  candles  to  a  star, 
Others  to  my  lady  are  !  '  ' 

she  sang,  lifting  her  eyes  and  clasping  her  hands 
mockingly,  after  the  manner  of  lovers.  An  an 
gry  frown  appeared  on  his  face,  and  in  a  twin 
kling  her  manner  changed.  "  Tell  me  first  truly 
all  thou  knowest,  and  I  swear  to  thee  that  of  all 
the  maids  in  France  I  will  put  my  finger  on  the 
one  thou  seekest.  What  happened  at  Ehres- 
berg  ?  Who  took  her  from  thee  ?  "  The  con 
fidence  of  the  girl's  manner  possessed  an  irre 
sistible  fascination,  and  Friedgis  began  to  relate 
what  had  taken  place  on  the  banks  of  the  Lippe. 
So  graphic  were  his  narrative  and  gestures  that 
Passe  Rose,  watching  every  word  as  it  fell  from 
his  lips,  seemed  to  see  the  actors  in  their  places 
re  enacting  their  parts  before  her  eyes  ;  and  when 
the  Frank,  about  to  lay  his  hand  on  the  sleeping 


114  PASSE  ROSE. 

girl,  was  disturbed  by  the  monk,  "  Seigneur," 
she  cried,  divining  what  was  to  follow,  "  it  was 
the  abbot." 

"  The  abbot !  "  exclaimed  Friedgis,  with  a  ges 
ture  towards  the  monastery. 

"  Ay,  he  was  with  the  king  in  Saxony.  Saw- 
cst  thou  his  face  ?  " 

Friedgis  shook  his  head.  "Not  well;  his 
back  was  turned." 

"  Hast  thou  not  seen  him  since  his  return  ?  " 
she  asked  eagerly. 

"  Nay,  as  thou  knowest,  he  came  but  lately. 
Thou  rememberest  the  day.  I  was  yonder  in 
the  tower  ringing  the  bells,  and  saw  the  slaves 
going  out  to  greet  him,  bearing  boughs  and 
chanting,  and  the  young  girls  strewing  flowers. 
He  was  already  ill,  and  hath  not  appeared  since. 
Believest  thou  the  monk  of  the  wood  was  he  ?  " 

Passe  Rose  nodded.  "And  the  other  —  the 
soldier?" 

"  Him  I  saw  well.  Moreover,  the  monk 
named  him.  Knowest  thou  one  among  the  king's 
leaders  called  Robert  of  Tours  ?  " 

Passe  Rose  drew  herself  up  quickly,  as  if  not 
believing  her  ears. 

"  Robert  of  Tours  ? "  she  repeated  mechani 
cally,  her  eyes  dilating. 

"  So  he  named  him." 

Clasping  her  hands  behind  her  head,  Passe 


PASSE  ROSE.  115 

Kose  had  the  manner  of  one  going  over  the  list 
of  her  acquaintances,  as  if  knowing  every  lord 
of  the  kingdom  as  well  as  she  knew  her  ten  fin 
gers.  But  her  heart  was  beating  fast.  "  Rob 
ert  of  Tours,"  talking  to  herself,  as  it  were ; 
and  then,  quickly,  "  Well,  afterwards  ?  " 

"  When  they  were  gone,"  continued  Friedgis, 
"  I  fell  asleep.  My  wound  bled.  For  days  I  had 
not  closed  an  eye  —  it  may  be  that  I  swooned. 
In  the  morning  she  was  gone,"  and  he  described 
his  fruitless  search  in  the  confusion  of  the  camp. 

The  organization  of  the  army  had  been  dis 
solved  in  a  night.  The  German  auxiliaries  had 
been  dismissed;  the  king's  vassals,  having 
feasted  together  in  Paderborn  till  break  of  day, 
released  from  service,  were  gathering  their  fol 
lowers  in  troops,  and  each,  with  his  share  of 
booty  and  convoy  of  captives,  sought  his  own  do 
main.  The  air  was  filled  with  sounds  of  lowing 
cattle,  of  axles  creaking  under  their  loads ;  the 
blast  of  horns  and  hoarser  shouts  of  command 
echoed  through  the  wood,  above  whose  tree-tops 
columns  of  dust  marked  the  windings  of  the 
road.  Friedgis  told  how,  frenzied  with  excite 
ment  and  apprehension,  he  ran  from  place  to 
place,  questioning  those  who  understood  him  not, 
jeered  at  for  a  madman,  cursed  for  refusal  to 
obey ;  till  at  last,  faint  from  his  bleeding  wound 
and  incapable  of  further  resistance,  he  was 


116  PASSE  ROSE. 

tripped  by  an  archer,  and  bound,  trembling  as  a 
child,  to  the  cross-bar  of  a  baggage  wagon,  amid 
the  laughter  of  the  soldiery.  "  If  thou  sayest 
truly  that  she  is  found  —  though  it  were  in 
the  king's  own  chamber  "  —  A  spasm  of  grief 
and  anger  contracted  his  muscles,  and  he  walked 
slowly  into  the  shadow,  beyond  the  girl's  search 
ing  gaze. 

Passe  Rose  had  been  more  occupied  with  her 
own  thoughts  than  with  the  Saxon's  tale,  but 
hearing  his  retreating  footsteps,  and  believing 
that  he  was  indeed  going,  an  exclamation  of  im 
patience  escaped  her,  and,  leaping  to  her  feet, 
she  ran  after  him.  "  Whither  now  ?  "  she  said, 
standing  in  his  path.  "  To  Aix  ?  Truly  —  I 
believe  .  .  .  Aix,  Aix  "  —  she  cried,  unable  to 
find  words  with  which  to  measure  his  folly. 
"  As  well  seek  the  star  in  the  pond ! "  She 
took  him  by  the  arm  and  led  him  back  to  the 
seat.  For  some  minutes  they  sat  beside  each 
other  in  silence.  A  fragmentary  sentence  es 
caped  now  and  then  the  girl's  lips,  as  if  she  were 
endeavoring  to  reason  with  her  companion  while 
her  own  thought  was  elsewhere.  "  Plunge  thine 
arm  in  to  the  shoulder  —  that  were  a  child's 
folly !  Patience."  Her  eyes,  fixed  on  the  star 
shining  in  the  pond,  shone  also.  "Have  pa 
tience,"  she  repeated  abstractedly  ;  and  again, 
persuasively,  "  Have  patience."  Some  deeper 


PASSE  HOSE.  117 

emotion  drove  her  hurrying  thought  before  it ; 
her  eyes  dilated,  as  if  fascinated  by  expanding 
horizons.  With  a  rapid  gesture  she  passed  her 
hand  over  her  forehead,  brushing  back  her  hair. 
"  I  know  what  thou  thinkest.  When  I  came  for 
the  collar,  thou  saidst,  A  girl  who  has  lost  her 
jewel,  a  fool  seeking  stars  in  the  pond  !  Look 
at  me,  —  I  have  wasted  twenty  summers.  The 
Queen  Hildegarde  was  alive  then,  —  twenty 
summers  lost !  Hast  thou  seen  the  late  seed 
shoot  up  in  the  harvest  moon  ?  All  the  summer 
it  sleeps,  and  now  it  stirs  and  pushes,  opening 
its  eye  in  a  single  summer  night,  to  see  its  fel 
lows  grown  and  the  season  gone.  Twenty  sea 
sons  the  blood  stirred  in  my  veins,  and  I  knew 
it  not.  I  slept  like  the  seed,  in  the  moss  un 
derfoot.  Suddenly  I  opened  my  eyes  :  it  was 
in  the  wood  of  Hesbaye.  When  I  told  thee  I 
found  the  collar  there,  I  lied ;  he  gave  it  me. 
Till  then  I  slept,  ate,  slept ;  played,  like  a  child, 
with  the  stars  in  the  pond.  But  now  !  "  She 
stood  up,  and  stretched  out  her  hands  passion 
ately  to  the  sky  with  a  short,  exulting  laugh. 
"  Being  awake,  do  they  think  me  content  to 
comb  wool  and  make  jelly  of  quince,  —  life  being 
short  and  twenty  seasons  gone  ?  By  the  saints  ! 
I  would  like  to  know  one  thing :  how  happens 
it  that  one  star  shines  in  the  sky,  and  its  fellow 
in  the  pond?  We  will  see,  —  we  will  see." 


118  PASSE  ROSE. 

"  A  king's  captain,  —  that  is  not  much,"  said 
Friedgis  derisively. 

She  answered  him  with  a  quick  glance  of  con 
tempt,  and  turned  away  her  head,  with  a  scorn 
ful  movement  of  her  shoulders.  Then  sitting 
down  beside  him  and  looking  up  into  his  face, 
"Knowest  thou  not,  dear  porter,  that  were  he 
the  abbot's  swineherd  "  —  She  paused.  "  Said 
I  not  there  were  some  things  hard  to  under 
stand?  So  thou  seekest  thy  maid  Kothilde. 
Is  it  her  jewels  that  thou  covetest  ?  Nay,  nay, 
nay  "  —  Her  voice  died  away  and  her  eyes  filled 
with  dreams.  "Let  him  pass  over  this  body 
with  the  wheels  of  his  car  —  if  he  will  —  if  he 
will "  - 

"  What  is  that  to  me  ?  "  said  Friedgis,  observ 
ing  her  attentively. 

"  What  is  that  to  thee  ?  "  she  repeated,  break 
ing  away  from  her  thought  with  an  effort. 
"Seigneur!  it  signifies  that  I  wish  thee  well. 
When  the  heart  is  full,  then  it  has  the  most 
room.  Reason  now  a  little.  The  king's  cap 
tain  —  Peste !  the  name  escapes  me,"  she  cried, 
beating  her  head  with  her  hand :  "  it  hath  so 
long  a  Latin  sound ;  yet  I  know  it  well.  Surely 
thou  knowest." 

Friedgis  shook  his  head. 

"He  does  not  know,"  thought  Passe  Rose. 
"  Never  mind,"  she  said  aloud.  "  He  will  come 


PASSE  ROSE.  119 

again  shortly,  and  hath  promised  to  bring  me 
word.  Wait,  and  at  the  first  chance  observe 
the  abbot.  He  is  sure  now  to  recover  his  health. 
I  have  the  devil  which  tormented  him  safe  in 
hand.  Hark  !  "  she  whispered,  grasping  his 
arm. 

The  sound  of  footsteps  was  heard  on  the  path 
near  the  gate.  Friedgis  pulled  the  girl  into  the 
shadow,  where,  shielded  from  view,  they  saw 
the  prior  emerge  upon  the  walk  bordering  the 
pond. 

"  Would  I  were  a  devil  indeed,"  muttered 
Passe  Rose  under  her  breath.  "  I  would  plague 
his  soul  willingly." 

With  a  gesture  of  silence,  Friedgis  covered 
her  mouth  with  his  palm. 

The  prior  stood  for  a  moment  looking  at  the 
stars  reflected  in  the  basin  ;  then  walked  slowly 
along  the  bank,  like  one  who  thinks  himself 
alone. 

"  Quick !  get  thee  gone,"  whispered  Passe 
Rose.  "  He  saw  nothing.  Farewell,  but  speak 
not  to  the  abbot  till  I  see  thee  again."  And 
pushing  Friedgis  by  the  shoulder,  without  wait 
ing  his  reply,  she  turned  in  the  direction  the 
prior  had  taken.  He  had  stopped  at  the  outlet 
of  the  pond,  where  a  thin  sheet  of  water  flowed 
over  a  culvert  of  stone.  His  hood  was  thrown 
back,  and  his  pale  face  shone  in  the  starlight 


120  PASSE  ROSE. 

against  the  black  background  of  verdure.  "  Here 
is  one  not  easily  frightened  by  such  demons  as 
I,"  thought  Passe  Rose. 

As  she  stole  cautiously  by,  the  cry  of  the 
cuckoo  sounded  down  the  road.  "  By  St.  Mar 
tin  !  the  wood  is  full  of  birds,"  she  said  to  her 
self,  sinking  down  behind  a  bush.  "Never 
heard  I  a  cuckoo  with  so  clear  a  song  in  the 
month  of  winds."  Crouching  behind  the  leaves, 
she  distinguished  footsteps  on  the  road,  and 
presently  low  voices  in  earnest  conversation. 
She  endeavored  to  part  the  screen  of  branches, 
but  every  motion  resulted  in  such  rustling  that 
she  was  forced  to  sit  still,  through  fear  of  be 
traying  her  presence.  By  dint  of  straining  her 
ears  she  made  out  two  voices  besides  the  prior's ; 
and  hearing  at  intervals  a  metallic  clank,  "  One 
is  armed,"  she  said.  For  a  full  hour,  cramped 
in  posture  and  wet  with  dew,  Passe  Rose  fretted 
and  chafed  at  being  able  neither  to  hear  a  word 
nor  see  a  face.  At  last  the  voices  ceased,  steps 
were  heard  retreating  down  the  road ;  then  the 
gate  was  fastened,  and  everything  was  still. 

"  May  the  saints  keep  my  bones  from  the 
ague,"  she  muttered,  stretching  her  stiffened 
limbs  and  issuing  from  her  hiding-place.  The 
thought  of  her  prolonged  absence  caused  her  to 
hasten,  but  as  she  gained  the  road  a  small  parch 
ment  scroll  caught  her  eye.  She  picked  it  up 


PASSE  JROSE.  121 

quickly,  and  while  hurrying  down  the  hill,  her 
ear  alert  for  those  who  preceded  her,  opened 
the  roll  sufficiently  to  perceive  that  its  inner  sur 
face  was  covered  with  writing. 

"  Perhaps  these  are  the  new  characters  of 
which  the  clerk  in  the  church  of  St.  Sebastian 
spoke,"  she  said,  thrusting  the  parchment  in  her 
bosom  with  the  dagger  and  the  key. 

While  she  lay  concealed,  the  moon  had  risen, 
—  not  yet  so  high,  however,  but  that  its  beams, 
grazing  the  hill's  crest,  threw  long  shadows  down 
the  descending  slope,  on  which  the  girl  glided 
till  she  reached  the  level  below.  Here  the  plain 
was  flooded  with  light,  and  as  she  hesitated  on 
the  edge  of  the  forest  the  flutter  of  a  wood-dove 
above  her  head  caused  her  to  start.  "  There  is 
no  woman  in  Maestricht,  having  this  place  to 
cross  at  night,"  she  said  to  herself,  setting 
boldly  forth,  "  who  would  not  thank  the  saints 
for  so  comforting  a  moon."  Her  eyes  were 
abroad  to  scan  the  smallest  moving  thing,  but 
nothing  was  astir,  and  her  thoughts  were  quickly 
occupied  by  the  events  of  the  day.  "  So,  Robert 
of  Tours,  armed,  and  with  two  followers  at  thy 
back,  thy  sword  becomes  limp  as  a  hempen 
strand  at  the  sight  of  the  abbot's  face  !  Had 
I  been  in  the  maid's  stead  —  a  monk's  eye  is 
no  better  than  a  maid's  "  —  and  hers  glittered 
sharper  than  her  dagger's  point.  Then  came 


122  PASSE  ROSE. 

Gui  of  Tours,  leading  the  horse  on  which  she 
rode  in  the  wood  of  Hesbaye,  or  riding  at  the 
head  of  the  troop  across  the  market-place,  or 
following  close  behind  her,  through  the  alders 
beside  the  foaming  brook,  driving  away  all 
power  to  deal  with  the  plans  half  formed  in  her 
busy  brain.  For,  intrigued  as  she  was  by  the 
visitors  whom  the  prior  received  at  midnight, 
and  whose  parchment  burned  in  her  bosom ; 
perplexed,  too,  at  the  thought  of  the  demon, 
whose  evil  practices  were,  perhaps,  already  re 
cited  to  the  king ;  and  alarmed,  above  all,  at 
what  might  fpllow  upon  her  lover's  search  for 
the  Saxon  maiden,  —  with  all  these  thoughts  her 
will  was  as  limp  to  cope  as  the  Frank's  sword. 
In  truth  she  was  eager  only  to  gain  her  quiet 
room,  to  give  herself  over  to  the  dreams  which 
border  sleep,  content  to  put  over  for  the  morrow 
all  devices  and  plans ;  for  all  day  long  she  had 
sipped  a  cup  which  never  before  had  touched 
her  lips,  and  never  had  Gui  of  Tours  himself, 
after  the  banquet,  more  need  of  sleep  to  steady 
the  pulse  and  clear  the  brain  than  she. 

As  she  turned  the  corner  into  the  street  with 
out  the  garden  wall,  a  glimmer  of  light  from  her 
own  window  shone  full  in  her  face.  Feeble 
though  it  was  because  of  the  moon,  and  blurred 
by  the  pane  of  horn,  nevertheless  there  it  twin 
kled,  beyond  dispute,  like  a  wicked,  winking 


PASSE  ROSE.  123 

eye,  and  Passe  Rose  stopped  short,  one  hand  on 
her  beating  heart,  the  other  clasping  the  key. 
An  overmastering  presentiment,  beyond  the  war 
rant  of  reason,  seized  her  like  a  hand  that 
clutches  the  throat  and  cannot  be  loosed.  The 
quick  defense  of  innocence  falsely  accused,  the 
hot  explanation  of  malign  appearances,  questions 
which  tore  her  heart  and  looks  which  struck  at 
pride,  a  sickening  apprehension  and  rallying 
rush  of  bravery,  were  all  pressed  into  the  second 
she  paused  dismayed  at  the  sight  of  the  glim 
mering  lamp  in  her  chamber  turret;  and  in 
nocent  as  she  declared  herself  to  be,  the  key  in 
her  fingers,  stolen  from  its  peg  on  the  kitchen 
wall,  was  heavier  on  her  conscience  than  in  her 
hand.  Being  free  of  all  guile,  certainly  it  were 
hard  to  enter  the  key  warily  in  the  grating  lock, 
like  a  thief  or  a  culprit  that  may  not  look  up 
for  shame.  But  this  she  had  no  need  to  do,  for 
the  gate  was  ajar,  and  within  stood  the  boy  rub 
bing  the  wonder  out  of  his  eyes,  and  the  two 
maids  (who  loved  her  not  overmuch),  with  looks 
fitter  than  words  to  rouse  wrath,  and  under  the 
kitchen  eaves  Jeanne  herself,  stupefied  with  the 
dread  of  harm  rather  than  the  thought  of  evil. 

Passe  Rose  had  certainly  thrown  her  arms 
about  Jeanne's  neck  and  told  her  the  whole 
story,  even  to  the  fay's  girdle,  but  for  the  scorn 
on  the  maids'  faces,  which  hardened  her  temper, 


124  PASSE  ROSE. 

and  turned  her  bearing  from  gentleness  to  bold 
ness  and  defiance.  Perhaps  Jeanne  guessed  as 
much,  for  with  a  gesture  she  bade  them  and  the 
boy  retire.  But  before  a  word  could  be  spoken 
Werdric  came  down  the  chamber  stair,  with  the 
lamp  in  his  hand. 

For  a  moment  the  three  stood  silent  in  the 
full  light  of  the  moon. 

It  were  strange  indeed,  were  it  not  so  com 
mon,  that  in  one  breathless  second  feeling  can 
gather  such  headway  that  neither  love  nor 
reason  can  stay  its  course,  though  we  know  its 
end  is  folly,  and  desire  nothing  less  than  to 
follow  its  lead.  The  barriers  which  oppose  its 
vent  do  but  concentrate  its  power,  and  so  it  was 
that  the  very  pleading  of  Jeanne's  face  and  the 
challenge  of  innocence  in  Passe  Rose's  eye  gath 
ered  Werdric's  anger  into  one  terrible  word. 

"  Strumpet !  "  he  said,  not  believing  his  own 
ears. 

A  quick  cry  escaped  Jeanne's  heart,  but  Passe 
Rose  only  shivered,  —  so  the  bare  flesh  recoils 
under  the  first  lash  of  the  scourge.  The  blood 
ebbed  from  her  cheeks,  but  the  fire  leaped  to 
her  eyes,  and  she  made  a  step  toward  Werdric 
that  seemed  to  dare  him  to  strike  again. 

"  Strumpet !  "  he  repeated,  goaded  now  by 
madness  and  the  defiance  of  her  eye. 

The  word  came  like  a  blow  full  in  the  face, 


PASSE  ROSE. 

but  the  girl  neither  spoke  nor  stirred.  She 
stood  for  a  moment  like  one  dazed ;  then  hung 
the  key  mechanically  on  its  peg,  and  went 
slowly  up  the  stair. 

Jeanne  sprang  to  follow  her,  but  Werdric, 
sullen  and  ashamed,  closed  the  door.  "  Shame ! " 
cried  Jeanne,  all  a-tremble,  and  clutching  his 
arm.  Then,  all  strength  deserting  her,  she 
sank  at  his  feet,  tears  of  old  age  running  free  as 
a  child's.  "Who 'da  thought  it,"  she  moaned 
between  her  sobs,  rocking  to  and  fro,  —  "  the 
gift  of  God  —  who  'd  a  thought  it  —  from  thee." 

The  moon  traveled  slowly  across  the  turret 
window-pane,  and  its  light  began  to  blend  with 
the  coming  dawn,  and  still  Passe  Rose  sat  on 
the  bed's  edge.  Gone  were  the  dream  spirits 
that  hide  under  maidens'  pillows  ;  a  cruel  word 
was  written  across  the  floor  on  the  spot  where 
her  eyes  were  fixed,  and  every  pulse  of  the  blood 
hurled  it  afresh  in  her  aching  ears.  Now  in 
deed  might  the  garden  sparrows  have  flown 
fearlessly  to  her  shoulders,  so  like  she  seemed  to 
the  statue  in  the  church  porch,  whose  dull  eyes 
stare  always  at  the  same  place,  and  whose  rai 
ment  of  stone  never  yields  to  the  breeze. 

At  last  she  rose,  and  in  an  absent  way,  as  it 
were,  unwound  the  veil  from  her  head  and 
shoulders,  and  unfastened  her  dress,  broidered 
by  Jeanne's  own  fingers,  —  the  dress  whose 


126  PASSE  ROSE. 

close-fitting  sleeves  leaving  bare  the  lower  arm, 
and  girdle  clasping  her  waist,  was  her  especial 
delight  and  pride.  She  gave  no  heed  to  its 
broidered  hem,  nor  to  the  clasp  Werdric  himself 
had  wrought  for  her,  and  going  to  her  chest 
lifted  its  heavy  lid.  There  at  the  bottom  lay 
the  robe  in  which  Werdric  had  found  her  in  the 
wood.  The  edge  was  frayed  and  the  color 
faded,  and  but  one  lacing-cord  remained  in  the 
sleeves.  As  she  lifted  it  from  the  chest,  the 
silver  sous  clicked  together  in  the  purse  which 
fell  from  its  folds.  She  put  on  the  dress,  ill- 
fitting  now  as  it  was ;  then,  stooping,  loosed  her 
sandals,  for  shoes  she  had  none  when  she  came. 
Having  closed  the  lid,  she  opened  the  purse, 
and  took  therefrom  one  copper  piece,  the  amount 
she  had  with  her  when  she  fled  from  the  mer 
chants  at  St.  Denis's  fair,  and  thrust  it,  with  the 
dagger  about  which  was  rolled  the  prior's  parch 
ment,  into  her  bodice.  All  this  she  did  quickly, 
without  deliberation;  yet  will  not  even  the 
young  shoot  let  go  the  soil  without  a  wrench, 
and  so  Passe  Rose,  before  she  turned  to  go, 
struggled  with  tears,  and  kissed  the  golden  sun 
blazoned  on  her  pillow,  hiding  there  her  head. 
The  purse  was  still  in  her  hand  when  she  rose, 
and  an  image  of  Mary  the  Blessed  Mother 
looked  down  upon  her  as  she  lifted  her  head. 
A  spasm  of  anger  and  pride  drove  the  tears 


PASSE  HOSE.  127 

from  her  eyes,  and  she  hurled  the  purse  at  the 
image  in  sudden  scorn,  as  the  words  of  the 
Saxon  came  to  mind :  "  Of  what  avail  the 
gods,  since  they  do  not  hear  !  Henceforth  they 
are  nothing  to  me,"  and  went  down  the  kitchen 
stair. 

It  was  unlucky  for  all  that  Jeanne,  after  sob 
bing  the  whole  night  through,  had  fallen  asleep 
in  the  gray  of  morning,  and  that  Werdric  only 
was  astir ;  for  had  Jeanne  been  there  the  girl 
had  never  crossed  the  garden  unhindered.  In 
vain  had  Werdric  sought  to  justify  the  heat  of 
his  temper ;  but  his  pride  was  stubborn,  and  the 
greater  one's  own  the  less  one  allows  for  that 
of  another.  He  had  risen  from  bed  to  escape 
the  presence  of  Jeanne,  and  was  placing  the 
fagots  upon  the  hearth  when  Passe  Rose  came 
down  the  stair.  He  saw  the  dress  she  wore,  and 
knew  its  import  well,  but  the  words  of  command 
he  summoned  failed  him  when  he  saw  her  face, 
for  the  spirit  of  the  girl  lorded  his.  She  passed 
where  he  stood,  paying  him  no  more  heed  than 
the  bundle  of  fagots  in  his  hand,  and  his  eyes 
followed  her  bare  feet  down  the  path  and 
through  the  arch,  gazing  with  a  stupid  stare  at 
the  place  where  she  disappeared. 

It  was  then  that  Jeanne,  whose  sleep  was 
light,  came  from  her  room  ;  and,  although  for 
bidden  by  Werdric  to  hold  any  converse  with 


128  PASSE  ROSE. 

the  girl,  unable  longer  to  restrain  her  desire, 
stole  timidly  up  Passe  Rose's  stair.  Before  she 
had  gained  the  chamber  above,  Werdrie  sprang 
to  the  gate.  His  heart  was  full  of  remorse,  and 
he  could  not  bide  the  issue  of  Jeanne's  quest  to 
that  empty  room.  The  street  was  vacant  and 
still.  He  ran  to  the  market-place.  No  one  was 
yet  abroad,  save  the  rickety  crone  in  the  porch 
of  the  church  of  St.  Sebastian,  wondering  to  see 
a  man  at  that  hour  running  hither  and  thither, 
tearing  his  hair. 

The  wood  of  Hesbaye  was  still  dark  when 
Passe  Rose  left  the  high-road  to  follow  the 
wood-cutters'  path  into  its  friendly  screen.  The 
little  birds,  shaking  the  night  dew  from  their 
feathers  in  the  branches  above,  called  to  her  as 
she  passed,  turning  their  heads  side-wise,  but 
she  paid  them  no  heed.  A  hare  loped  down 
the  path,  paused  a  bow-shot  beyond  her,  then, 
dropping  its  ears,  plunged  through  the  briers. 
Still  Passe  Rose  went  on,  with  only  one  thought 
in  her  mind:  never  again  to  pass  Werdric's 
door,  nor  hear  the  sound  of  his  voice.  The 
path  narrowed  like  a  meadow  rill,  till,  lost  in 
the  thicket,  all  ways  seemed  alike. 

The  day  passed,  the  night  came;  still  she 
went  on.  The  night !  Do  you  know  what  night 
is  in  the  wood  ?  Without,  among  the  cabins  on 
the  plain,  it  approaches  slowly,  with  manifold 


PASSE  ROSE.  129 

signs.  The  sun's  edge  becomes  visible  through 
the  haze,  touches  the  pine-tops  on  the  horizon, 
blazes  awhile  between  their  branches,  then  dis 
appears,  as  a  beacon  fire  expires  on  the  moun 
tain.  But  it  is  not  yet  night.  Saffron  streamers 
shoot  to  the  zenith ;  a  cloud  lies  athwart  them, 
like  a  lance  dipped  in  blood ;  above,  the  wool- 
white  clouds  begin  to  glow  ;  higher  still  a  fleecy 
film  of  vapor  throbs  with  rose.  These  are  its 
heralds.  In  a  moment  they  will  float  black  as 
funeral  garments  upon  the  opal  sky.  And  yet 
it  is  not  night.  A  single  star  opens  its  eye ; 
as  at  a  signal,  one  by  one,  hundred  by  hun 
dred,  thousand  by  thousand,  the  hosts  of  heaven 
come  forth.  Now  the  lights  twinkling  in  the 
cabins  are  extinguished,  the  tired  lie  down  to 
sleep,  and  it  is  night.  But  in  the  forest  there  is 
no  sun,  no  sky,  no  star.  The  light  flees  from 
its  depths  without  warning,  and  swiftly,  noise 
lessly,  like  the  leap  of  the  leopard,  night  is 
there.  It  enwraps  the  tall  trees  as  the  dead 
are  enwrapped  in  their  grave-clothes.  High 
up  only,  the  topmost  leaves  are  free  to  flutter 
a  little,  so  thick  is  the  darkness.  And  oh,  the 
sounds  below!  more  ominous  than  the  plain's 
silence  —  that  stealthy  footfall  in  the  dry  moss, 
that  snapping  twig,  that  rustle  of  leaves  where 
no  wind  is.  Here  one  is  observed,  yet  sees  noth 
ing.  Nay,  look !  two  shining  lights  where  no 


130  PASSE  ROSE. 

light  is,  —  for  the  glow-worm  is  afar  in  the 
ploughed  field,  the  fire-fly  is  abroad  among  the 
wheat-heads.  These  are  the  wood-stars  that 
shine  in  the  thicket,  whether  of  timid  doe  or 
panther  ready  to  spring,  God  knows  !  but  the 
heart  bounds,  and  the  ear  strains  to  catch  the 
breath  of  the  nostrils.  Fly  —  but  how,  in  this 
jungle?  A  night-bird  fans  the  face  with  his 
wing.  Oh  for  the  clue  that  he  follows !  Hark ! 
far  off,  hurling  the  living  apart,  a  dead  tree 
crashes,  pauses,  and  falls  in  thunder.  Wrap 
thy  garment  about  thee,  Passe  Eose ;  draw  it 
tightly  over  thy  head  and  shut  out  this  night ; 
for  to  wait  and  watch  and  listen  are  beyond  the 
endurance  of  reason.  Hark  again !  is  it  the 
wind  ?  —  for  within  one  cannot  tell  what  is  tak 
ing  place  without.  It  comes  from  afar,  like  a 
murmur  of  meadow  waters ;  then  nearer,  a  roar 
as  of  surf  on  the  shore.  The  rain  overhead! 
but  below,  for  a  long  time  all  is  still,  as  in  the 
sea  depths,  till  at  last  the  bending  branches 
drip,  and  every  terrifying  sound  is  drowned  in 
a  low,  monotonous  patter.  Now  dream,  Passe 
Rose,  if  thou  canst,  while  the  wakeful  ear  is 
lulled  to  slumber.  Surely  this  is  the  rain  on  the 
roof  of  thatch  ;  thou  art  safe  within  the  mud 
walls  of  the  cabin  ;  the  night  thrush  sings  in  the 
bush,  and  the  blessed  stars  look  down  upon  thee. 


PASSE  ROSE.  131 


X. 

Buried  from  sight  among  the  wooded  spurs 
which  prolonged  the  vast  forest  of  Ardennes 
nearly  to  the  Rhine,  the  castle  of  Immaburg 
seemed  almost  deserted ;  for  the  king,  with  the 
royal  household,  had  set  out  for  Aix,  to  await 
there  the  arrival  of  his  son  Pepin  from  Panno- 
nia.  So  magnificent  were  the  preparations 
made  to  receive  the  victorious  young  king  of 
Italy,  and  so  great  was  the  curiosity  to  witness 
the  triumphant  entry  of  the  army  with  its  bar 
barian  captives  and  hostages,  that  many  of  the 
permanent  inmates  of  the  villa  had  obtained 
permission  to  follow  the  court ;  only  such  ser 
vants  as  were  necessary  for  the  care  of  the  ken 
nels  and  stables,  the  orchards  and  gardens,  re 
maining.  A  single  company  of  guards  was  also 
left  to  act  as  escort  for  certain  damsels  of  the 
princesses'  household,  who,  while  chatting  over 
their  needlework  in  the  pleasance  without  the 
inclosure,  were  impatiently  anticipating  the  mor 
row's  ride  to  Aix  and  the  festivities  of  the  cap 
ital.  Gui  of  Tours  himself,  the  chief  of  the 
company,  after  yawning  away  a  half  hour  under 
the  gallery  of  the  preau,  strolled  discontentedly 
across  the  silent  court-yard  through  the  gateway, 
where  a  few  soldiers  loitered,  playing  at  dice  or 


132  PASSE  ROSE. 

sleeping  on  the  wooden  benches  in  the  shadow 
of  the  wall.  A  subdued  sound  of  laughter  from 
the  terrace  greeted  the  captain's  appearance,  for 
the  company  of  women  was  well  known  to  be  his 
last  resource.  But  the  captain  paid  no  more 
heed  to  the  laughter  than  he  had  to  the  dice 
which  the  soldiers  concealed  at  his  approach, 
and  disappeared  among  the  outbuildings  where 
were  lodged  the  dogs  and  horses. 

Shortly  after,  he  was  seen  again  on  the  road 
beyond  the  pleasance,  gazing  moodily  over  the 
cabins  of  the  serfs,  clustered  about  the  paddocks 
and  sheepfolds,  towards  the  green  wood  which 
stretched  unbroken  to  the  horizon.  It  were  no 
wonder  if  the  women  deemed  the  captain  was 
searching  for  some  flutter  of  the  king's  banner 
in  the  screen  of  leaves  below,  and  the  pout  on 
the  small  lips  of  Agnes  of  Solier,  as  her  eyes 
glanced  from  the  valance  spread  over  her  knees 
to  the  distant  figure  of  the  soldier,  betrayed  the 
chagrin  which  his  indifference  caused  her.  So 
dense  was  the  green  curtain  that  the  hare  be 
neath  was  safe  from  the  kite  above  ;  neither 
flash  of  spear  nor  gleam  of  flames  on  the  king's 
standard  rewarded  the  captain's  gaze,  and  he 
wandered  back  to  the  court-yard  gate  like  a  rest 
less  hound  left  behind  from  the  chase. 

"Were  I  in  thy  stead,"  whispered  young 
Heluiz  of  Hesbaye,  bending  to  Agnes'  ear,  "  I 


PASSE  HOSE.  133 

would  ask  the  captain  to  replenish  my  reel. 
The  silk  is  almost  gone,  and  he  chafes  with  noth 
ing  to  do." 

"  If  the  captain  chafes,  he  is  best  away,"  re 
plied  the  girl,  striving  in  vain  to  conceal  the 
blush  which  rose  to  her  cheek. 

"  Truly,  I  believe  he  is  afraid  of  thy  tongue's 
point,  —  it  is  sharper  than  thy  needle,"  laughed 
her  tormentor  maliciously. 

"  What  art  thou  saying,  Heluiz  ?  "  asked  an 
elderly  dame,  who,  in  the  centre  of  the  group, 
directed  the  work  of  the  young  girls. 

"  I  was  relating  to  Agnes  of  Solier,  Mistress 
Chlodine,  how  Attila,  king  of  the  Huns,  was 
slain  by  his  wife  with  a  golden  needle  on  their 
marriage  night." 

"  They  say  the  Huns  have  the  faces  of  apes," 
said  a  fair-haired  girl,  looking  up  from  her  em 
broidery  ;  "  like  that  which  the  Emir  of  Barce 
lona  sent  the  king." 

A  sally  of  laughter  greeted  this  statement, 
and  the  speaker,  Gesualda,  daughter  of  Lei- 
dulphe,  Count  of  Arnay,  bent  her  head  over  her 
work  in  confusion. 

"  What  thou  sayest  is  true,  little  dear,"  said 
Mistress  Chlodine.  "  These  people  are  pagans 
and  sorcerers,  fearing  neither  God  nor  man.  Is 
it  not  so,  Rothilde  ?  "  she  asked,  turning  to  the 
maiden  nearest  her. 


134  PASSE  ROSE. 

The  question  was  rude,  for  the  girl  was  a  bar 
barian,  of  that  Saxon  race  whose  perfidy  had 
cost  the  kingdom  such  blood  and  treasure,  and 
all  knew  that  Mistress  Chlodine  bore  with  ill 
grace  her  presence  among  the  princesses'  women. 
Saxon  and  Hun  were  all  one  to  Mistress  Chlo 
dine  ;  she  made  no  distinction  between  their, 
abodes,  putting  them  all  together  in  the  zone  of 
heathendom,  which  girdled  the  land  like  the  sea 
in  the  maps  which  the  School  of  the  Palace  had 
made  for  the  king. 

Two  limpid  blue  eyes  looked  up  from  the  vi 
gnette  border  of  the  tapestry,  and  a  faint  blush 
overspread  the  girl's  neck.  At  a  passing  glance, 
one  would  say  she  was  the  least  beautiful  of  all 
present ;  yet  there  was  that  in  the  small  face  so 
attractive  that  he  who  looked  into  its  quick-fall 
ing  eyes  waited  till  they  should  lift  again,  so 
trustful  was  their  gaze,  so  timid  their  fall,  so 
fraught  with  mute  inquiry  their  slow  return,  — 
like  a  hand  put  confidingly  into  one's  own. 
There  was  not  a  maid  in  the  pleasance  but 
deemed  her  sly  and  full  of  wiles,  and  not  a  man 
in  the  kingdom  but  would  have  scouted  such 
talk  for  jealgus  slander,  so  gentle  was  her  bear 
ing.  That  the  heart  of  Robert  of  Tours  had  be 
come  as  wax  in  her  presence  was  common  gos 
sip.  It  was  said  that  he  had  seen  her  first 
among  the  captives  at  Ehresberg,  and  would 


PASSE  ROSE.  135 

have  had  her,  willing  or  unwilling,  for  himself 
but  for  the  Abbot  Rainal,  who  had  brought  her 
to  the  queen's  notice.  Every  one  knew  that  it 
had  been  the  abbot's  design  to  send  her  back  to 
her  own  land  to  win  her  people  to  the  service  of 
the  true  God,  but  whether  the  king  had  twice 
refused  her  to  Robert  of  Tours  because  he  fa 
vored  the  abbot's  design,  or  because  he  was 
wroth  that  a  great  leude  of  the  kingdom  should 
wed  a  Saxon  rebel,  was  matter  of  dispute.  Cer 
tain  it  was,  however,  that  after  the  king's  refusal 
Robert  of  Tours  went  with  Pepin  to  Hungary, 
to  vent  his  spleen  on  the  Avars,  and  that  Ro- 
thilde  was  sent  from  among  the  queen's  women  to 
the  school  of  the  novices  in  the  convent  of  Eicka. 
If  she  remained  at  Eicka  but  a  single  month, 
that  was  because  of  the  favor  of  the  young  queen, 
to  whom,  it  was  said,  the  king  could  refuse  noth 
ing.  Be  that  as  it  may,  she  was  back  again 
among  the  queen's  women  ;  and  one  would  have 
sworn  she  was  born  in  a  palace,  so  apt  was  she 
to  learn,  excelling  the  rest  in  all  she  did.  In 
deed,  luxury  suited  her  well,  and  she  filled  her 
station  as  easily  as  water  fills  a  jar. 

As  for  the  suit  of  Robert  of  Tours,  if  you 
would  know  how  it  fared  with  the  girl,  in  spite 
of  the  king,  ask  Gesualda  of  Arnay.  She 
would  bid  you  observe  the  fillet  of  black  pearls 
—  the  same  which  the  count's  wife  wore  when 


136  PASSE  ROSE. 

she  was  alive  —  which  Rothilde  never  loosed 
from  her  hair.  Not  that  Gesualda  was  wiser 
than  the  others,  —  for  the  Saxon  held  her 
tongue,  — but  was  more  friendly  to  the  girl  than 
they ;  if  not  from  affection,  then  from  the  love 
of  contrariety,  which  was  so  natural  to  her  that 
it  often  set  her  right  hand  against  her  left. 

"  We  shall  soon  see  for  ourselves,"  she  said, 
parrying  Chlodine's  question  for  her  friend. 
"  That  the  Huns  resemble  the  Saracen's  ape  I 
am  sure.  Ask  the  captain ;  he  was  with  Theu- 
doric  on  the  Danube." 

"He  might  as  well  be  there  now,"  replied 
Heluiz  of  Hesbaye,  with  a  sidelong  glance  at 
Agnes. 

"  Jesse,"  said  Agnes,  calling  to  the  page  on 
the  terrace  steps,  "  go  say  to  the  captain,  Gui  of 
Tours,  that  Heluiz  of  Hesbaye  is  dying  to  put  to 
him  a  question  about  the  monkeys  of  Barcelona." 

A  burst  of  laughter  followed  this  retort,  at 
which  Mistress  Chlodine,  not  understanding  its 
import,  frowned,  and  the  fingers  plied  again  be 
tween  the  silken  floss  and  pearls  in  silence. 

Agnes  of  Solier  had  long  been  betrothed  to 
Gui  of  Tours.  Both  her  mother  and  her  father 
were  dead,  —  unless,  indeed,  there  were  truth  in 
the  rumor  that  the  blood  of  Karle  ran  in  her 
veins.  Certain  it  was  that  the  king  loved  and 
honored  her  next  to  his  own  daughters  ;  and  it 


PASSE  ROSE.  137 

were  strange  that  Robert  of  Tours  should  so  set 
his  heart  on  this  betrothal  if  the  girl  were  only 
an  orphan  dependent  on  the  royal  bounty.  Cer 
tain  also  was  it  that  on  her  mother's  death  the 
king  had  sent  her  to  the  abbey  of  Chelles, 
whereof  his  sister  Gisele  was  abbess,  but  neither 
his  commands  nor  the  abbess's  entreaties  had 
been  able  to  dry  her  tears  or  stem  her  protest ; 
so  that  after  the  lapse  of  a  year  the  girl  had  her 
way,  and  exchanged  the  modest  dress  of  the 
cloister  for  court  attire.  It  were  no  new  thing, 
surely,  for  a  girl  to  brave  the  will  of  a  king,  but 
that  the  king  should  take  the  rebel  into  his  favor 
lent  strength  to  current  rumors  ;  for  so  he  did, 
and  even  the  Queen  Fastrade  had  received  her 
without  jealousy  in  her  household,  exercising  her 
mind  by  various  devices  and  her  fingers  in  every 
skillful  work.  If  there  were  little  in  her  voice 
and  features  which  resembled  Karle,  she  pos 
sessed  his  courageous  spirit.  It  leaped  to  her 
eye  in  anger,  it  burned  like  a  coal  beneath  her 
silence,  to  flash  forth  again  between  her  parted 
lips  and  white  teeth  in  the  merry  laugh  which 
gladdened  the  king's  heart.  Not  one  in  the 
company  would  dare  to  provoke  her  as  had 
Heluiz,  who  withal  teased  without  malice  and 
loved  without  envy.  What  from  her  lips  was 
only  a  sallying  breeze  from  a  rose  thicket,  from 
another  would  have  been  a  biting,  worrying  wind 


138  PASSE  HOSE. 

that  stings  the  blood  like  a  wild  nettle.  If  she 
teased,  it  was  from  curiosity  to  know  what  she 
could  not  otherwise  discover  ;  for  at  times  her 
friend  matched  Gui's  indifference  with  scant 
words,  and  again  the  black  lashes  quivered  over 
swimming  eyes,  —  whether  for  love,  or  pride,  or 
anger,  Heluiz  of  Hesbaye  was  sore  in  doubt,  not 
yet  dreaming  with  what  sorry  company  love  will 
sometimes  abide.  Waiting  for  the  captain's 
coming,  she  stole  a  glance  now  and  then  at 
Agnes'  face,  and  seeing  the  fine  lines  of  pride 
quiver  said  to  herself,  "  So  the  covert  of  leaves 
stirs  when  the  fawn  within  trembles." 

A  slope  of  broad  steps  led  up  from  the  road 
side  to  the  terrace.  Elsewhere  the  latter  was 
circled  by  an  open  balustrade,  and  so  pressed 
about  by  the  wood  that  at  high  noon  its  marble 
floor  was  dark  with  the  leaf  shadows.  The 
frown  had  scarce  left  Mistress  Chlodine's  face 
when  Gesualda,  sighing  that  she  should  be  at 
work  when  butterflies  were  abroad,  chanced  to 
follow  one  with  her  eyes  in  its  flight  over  the 
balusters,  and  gave  a  quick  cry. 

"  Mother  of  God !  "  she  said,  her  hand  on 
her  swelling  bosom,  "  I  thought  it  was  a  wood 
spirit." 

The  occasion  of  this  exclamation  was  a  young 
girl,  who,  emerging  suddenly  from  the  copse 
surrounding  the  pleasance,  and  surprised  at  the 


PASSE  ROSE.  139 

scene  before  her,  hesitated  whether  to  advance 
or  retreat,  fixing  her  large  eyes  in  succession 
upon  the  faces  turned  towards  her.  She  stood 
holding  the  branch  which  had  barred  her  pas 
sage,  her  uplifted  arm  bare  to  the  view,  for  the 
lacing-cord  of  the  sleeve  was  gone  and  the 
braided  wrist  unfastened.  A  border  of  silver 
lace,  tarnished  and  frayed,  encircled  the  low 
neck  of  her  dress,  and,  continuing  down  between 
the  spiral  pleats  of  the  bosom,  terminated  in  a 
broad  band,  which  accentuated  her  slender  form, 
and  from  which  hung  innumerable  tiny  trinkets 
and  bells.  Worn  and  dusty  as  was  this  dress, 
it  served  only  to  enhance  the  wearer's  vigorous 
beauty,  which  burst  through  her  outgrown  gar 
ment  as  the  ripe  fruit  bursts  its  sheath. 

Judging  from  her  attire  and  appearance  that 
she  was  some  wandering  dancer,  who,  separated 
from  her  companions,  had  become  lost  in  the 
forest,  Mistress  Chlodine  addressed  her  kindly, 
bidding  her  approach  and  rest  on  the  terrace 
steps.  Releasing  the  branch,  the  girl  advanced 
slowly  to  the  opening,  where  she  stood  scrutiniz 
ing  the  rich  apparel  of  those  about  her. 

"  What  is  thy  name  ?  "  asked  Agnes  of  So- 
lier,  on  whose  amice  of  seed  pearls  and  ermine 
kirtle  the  stranger's  gaze  was  riveted. 

The  girl  lifted  her  eyes,  without  replying,  to 
Agnes'  face,  where  they  rested  with  so  frank  an 


140  PASSE  EOSE. 

admiration  that  the  latter  forgave  their  beauty 
and  daring. 

•"  Either  she  is  dumb  or  does  not  under 
stand  ! "  exclaimed  Gesualda,  whose  earnest 
lisping  voice  was  always  the  signal  for  laughter. 

"  Nay,"  said  Heluiz  of  Hesbaye  gently,  offer 
ing  her  a  small  tray  on  which  were  bean  cakes 
and  almond  pasties ;  "  she  is  tired  and  hungry." 

The  girl  took  the  tray,  and,  sitting  down  on 
the  step,  began  to  eat  without  ceremony. 

."  Any  one  can  understand  that  language," 
lisped  Gesualda. 

Lifting  her  large  eyes  to  the  speaker's  face, 
the  stranger  smiled ;  whereupon  all  laughed 
aloud,  even  Mistress  Chlodine.  "It  is  good, 
pretty  dear,"  said  the  latter,  condescendingly. 

"  The  captain,  the  captain !  "  cried  Gesualda, 
clapping  her  hands.  "Have  ready  thy  ques 
tion,  Heluiz." 

The  girl,  from  whom  attention  was  momen 
tarily  diverted,  looked  up  from  her  tray.  Down 
the  path  came  Gui  of  Tours,  twirling  the  empty 
strap  of  his  baldric  and  followed  by  the  page. 
His  head  was  uncovered,  and  the  sun  shone  on 
the  metal  band  confining  the  brown  hair  above 
his  forehead.  As  he  drew  near,  his  eyes  sought 
Agnes'  face,  where  was  clearly  to  be  seen  pride 
at  his  manly  grace,  mingled  with  a  nervous 
apprehension  as  to  how  he  might  bear  himself 
towards  her. 


PASSE  ROSE.  141 

"  Captain  "  —  said  Heluiz  of  Hesbaye. 
But  in  turning  his  eyes  from  Agnes  to  Heluiz, 
they  got  no  farther  than  midway  from  one  to  the 
other,  for  there  between  them  on  the  step  sat 
Passe  Rose. 

Passe  Rose  it  undoubtedly  was,  but  in  such 
guise  that  the  captain's  cap  fell  from  his  hand 
for  wonder  and  surprise.  Her  hair  was  pow 
dered  with  the  red  dust,  and  her  dress  so  torn 
and  stained  that  if  ever  he  had  been  in  doubt  of 
his  heart's  desire,  the  plight  of  the  girl  made  it 
plain.  There  she  sat,  eating  her  cake,  appar 
ently  unconcerned,  her  eyes  upon  the  wicker 
tray  between  her  knees,  —  she  of  whom  he 
dreamed  by  night  and  thought  by  day,  the  light 
of  whose  eye  was  dearer  than  the  king's  ori- 
flamme,  and  whose  laugh  was  sweeter  than  all 
other  of  God's  sounds. 

"  Captain,"  said  Heluiz,  "  we  have  fallen  into 
words  over  the  Avars  "  — 

"  Whether  they  have  the  faces  of  apes  or  of 
men,"  interrupted  Gesualda.  "Hast  thou  not 
heard  the  song  about  Sigebert,  how  his  army 
took  flight  at  the  mere  sight  of  the  Huns  ?  My 
mother  told  it  me  when  I  was  young." 

A  chorus  of  laughter  greeted  this  evidence  of 
the  little  maid's  age  ;  but  still  the  captain  could 
not  tear  his  gaze  away  from  Passe  Rose,  in 
whom,  it  was  now  evident  to  all,  he  took  more 
interest  than  in  the  Avars. 


142  PASSE  ROSE. 

Although  quietly  eating  her  bean  cake,  a 
storm  of  emotions  tore  Passe  Rose's  heart : 
shame  at  the  contrast  between  her  and  the 
laughing  girls,  and  a  burning  dread  lest-  Gui 
should  deem  she  had  sought  him  out ;  envy  of 
all  the  joyous  ease  and  rich  attire  about  her, 
and  scorn  for  it  all  in  comparison  with  what  she 
herself  could  give ;  a  bitter  anger  against  injus 
tice,  and  a  sense  of  loss  made  doubly  keen  at 
the  sight  of  things  beyond  her  reach ;  but  most 
of  all  the  consciousness  of  the  captain's  gaze,  for 
its  open  eloquence  caused  her  both  fear  and  ex 
ultation.  It  was  to  measure  the  effect  of  this 
gaze  that  she  lifted  her  eyes,  and  saw  the  curious 
glances  fixed  upon  the  captain  and  herself. 
Even  Gesualda  had  forgotten  the  Avars. 

With  an  effort  Passe  Rose  stood  up,  confused 
before  so  many  eyes. 

"  Art  thou  rested  ?  "  said  Heluiz  kindly.  But 
the  girl  could  make  no  answer. 

"  Bid  the  captain  give  her  shelter  for  the 
night,  Mistress  Chlodine,"  said  Agnes  ;  but  the 
tone  of  the  voice  was  at  such  variance  with  the 
meaning  of  the  word  that  a  sudden  fire  blazed 
on  Passe  Rose's  face,  and  the  eyes  of  the  two 
met  with  a  shock  as  when  flint  strikes  flint  and 
the  fire  flashes  between.  Neither  knew  cause 
for  enmity ;  but  as  often  one  feels  more  than  is 
perceived,  so  a  secret  foreboding  filled  their 


PASSE  ROSE.  143 

hearts  with  mistrust  and  defiance.  It  seemed 
as  if  each  forgot  her  own  beauty  at  the  sight  of 
the  other's,  and  it  were  hard  to  tell  what  had 
happened  (for  the  rest  looked  on  in  wonder) 
had  not  Gui  stepped  boldly  forward,  taking 
Passe  Rose's  hand,  and  saying,  "  Were  the  king 
here,  shelter  and  food  were  surely  thine,  and  in 
his  name  I  offer  them."  With  this,  delaying 
for  no  reply,  he  led  her  down  the  step  to  where 
the  page  stood  in  waiting,  and,  being  still  ob 
served  of  all,  gave  her  into  his  charge  without 
further  words,  and  returned  to  answer  Gesual- 
da's  question. 

"  I  have  followed  the  Count  Theudoric  from 
the  Kamp  to  the.JVaag^!  he  said,  pushing  back      ' 
the   hair   from    his   forehead,    "but   have    seen 
more  apes  in  France  than  in  all  the  land  of  the 
Avars." 

"  By  what  sign  dost  thou  know  them  ?  "  asked 
Gesualda,  in  doubt  whether  he  was  in  jest  or 
earnest. 

"  By  a  certain  chattering  speech,  —  without 
meaning  or  purpose,"  replied  the  captain. 

"  I  think  thine  hath  overmuch  of  both,"  said 
the  girl,  hot  with  vexation.  It  was  evident  to 
all  that  things  were  not  as  they  had  been  be 
fore  the  stranger's  coming,  and  Gesualda,  losing 
all  interest  in  the  Huns  and  eager  to  repay  the 
captain's  thrust,  divined  the  point  of  attack  in 


144  PASSE  ROSE. 

spite  of  his  nonchalant  manner.  "  Mistress 
Chlodine,"  she  said  innocently,  and  plying  fast 
her  needle,  "  after  working  on  the  queen's  val 
ance,  I  am  sure  the  king  would  grudge  us  no 
pastime  at  supper.  Here  is  this  girl,  who  doubt 
less  hath  tales  of  adventure,  or  can  otherwise 
divert  us  with  jugglers'  tricks  or  even  rope- 
dancing  "  — 

"  Nay,"  interposed  Gui  abruptly,  "  let  the  girl 
rest ;  she  hath  walked  from  Maestricht  "  — 

"  From  Maestricht !  "  exclaimed  Gesualda, 
lifting  her  eyebrows.  "Hath  she  taught  thee 
her  conjurer's  art  ?  She  said  no  word,  and  yet 
thou  knowest  whence  she  came." 

"I  saw  her  in  the  abbey  of  St.  Servais," 
stammered  the  captain,  getting  nearer  the  truth 
than  would  have  many  another  in  like  vexa 
tion. 

Gesualda  contented  herself  with  a  glance  at 
Agnes  and  a  subdued  laugh,  indicating  vast 
amusement  over  something  she  chose  not  to 
utter. 

"  For  my  part,"  said  Heluiz  of  Hesbaye,  "  I 
had  far  rather  ride  to  Aix  this  very  evening. 
The  moon  is  full,  and  I  love  dearly  to  see  the 
wood  by  night." 

"  Aye,  let  us  have  all,"  chimed  in  Gesualda : 
"  dances  at  supper,  the  moon  on  the  plain,  and 
torches  for  the  wood." 


PASSE  ROSE.  145 

So  lively  a  murmur  of  approbation  greeted  this 
proposition  that  Mistress  Chlodine  smiled  assent, 
and  at  the  same  time  took  the  cover  of  gilded 
leather  from  the  needle-case  on  her  knees  as  a 
signal  that  work  was  over.  The  embroidery 
was  quickly  folded  in  its  silken  cover;  there 
was  rustling  of  robes,  flashing  of  beads,  and 
chatter  of  loosened  voices ;  a  score  of  light  feet 
pattered  over  the  terrace  floor,  a  half  score 
gowns  swept  the  steps,  and  the  pleasance  was 
left  to  the  birds  and  the  leaf  shadows. 

"  Who  is  she,  —  the  one  with  the  ermine  kir- 
tle  ? "  Passe  Rose  had  asked  of  the  page,  as 
she  followed  him  down  the  path. 

"  With  the  ermine  kirtle  ? "  said  the  page, 
turning  to  see  whom  the  girl  designated.  "  Oh, 
that  is  Agnes  of  Solier.  She  is  betrothed  to 
the  captain  who  commands  the  guard ; "  and 
half  closing  his  eye  with  an  expressive  glance 
at  Passe  Rose,  "  They  say  she  is  a  king's  daugh 
ter." 


XI. 

A  bat  sweeping  from  the  night  gloom  into  a 
blaze  of  candles  would  be  no  more  dazed  than 
was  Passe  Rose  when,  from  the  silence  and 
twilight  of  the  wood,  she  stepped  into  the  maid 
ens'  chatter  and  the  light  of  her  lover's  eye. 


146  PASSE  ROSE. 

Fascinated  by  the  scene  before  her,  and  glad 
dened  at  heart  in  the  midst  of  her  misery  by 
the  sight  of  Gui,  yet  through  all  the  maze  of 
her  feeling  ran  a  single  thought  like  a  leading- 
string,  —  to  escape  again,  and  free  herself  from 
suspicion  of  seeking  aught  at  his  hand.  But 
when  she  heard  the  page's  answer,  the  design 
she  had  formed  to  outwit  the  boy  between  the 
terrace  and  the  gate  passed  clean  from  her  mind. 
She  followed  him  now  willingly,  the  image  of 
Agnes  of  Solier  in  her  ermine  kirtle  before  her 
eyes,  heeding  so  little  whither  she  went  that  she 
neither  saw  the  soldiers  about  the  gate  nor  ob 
served  the  woman  to  whom  the  page  committed 
her ;  and  when  her  thoughts  returned,  there  she 
was  —  like  one  who,  waking  from  sleep,  sits  up 
in  bed  —  alone,  on  a  bench  in  a  sort  of  alcove, 
curtained  off  from  view.  A  mat  of  reeds  cov 
ered  the  floor,  and  a  bed  of  moss  and  dry  leaves 
was  spread  in  the  corner.  Pushing  aside  the 
curtain,  she  saw  a  large  room,  with  seats  ranged 
along  the  wall,  and  a  table  before  the  fireplace, 
at  which  a  woman  was  cooking.  The  light  fell 
full  in  her  face  from  the  door  opposite,  so  that 
at  first  she  could  distinguish  nothing  clearly  at 
the  farther  end  of  the  vast  apartment ;  but  on 
shielding  her  eyes  from  the  sun,  she  perceived  a 
monk  seated  at  the  table.  He  had  apparently 
just  finished  his  afternoon  meal,  for,  taking  a 


PASSE  ROSE.  147 

cloth  from  his  bag  and  wiping  his  mouth,  he 
pushed  his  seat  to  the  wall,  near  the  fireplace, 
where,  with  hands  locked  over  his  paunch,  he 
composed  himself  to  slumber. 

Having  cleared  the  table  of  its  cup  and  plat 
ter,  the  attendant  raked  the  unburnt  sticks  from 
the  fire,  and  disappeared  in  the  shadows  beyond. 
Passe  Kose  was  about  to  let  fall  the  curtain, 
when  a  woman  whom  she  recognized  as  one  she 
had  seen  on  the  terrace  entered  the  doorway. 
Casting  a  quick  glance  behind  her,  the  latter 
traversed  the  room  with  a  rapid  but  timid  step, 
as  if  seeking  some  one,  and  seeing  the  monk 
dozing  near  the  fire  hastened  towards  him.  So 
light  was  her  footfall  that  the  monk  knew  noth 
ing  of  her  approach  till  he  felt  her  hand  upon 
his  shoulder. 

"  Dost  thou  return  to  Maestricht  to-night  ?  " 
she  asked,  checking  his  surprise  by  her  question. 

Passe  Rose  listened. 

"  I  am  told,"  continued  the  speaker,  "  thou 
art  a  holy  man,  much  esteemed  by  the  Prior 
Sergius." 

Passe  Rose  could  not  hear  the  monk's  reply, 
for  his  voice  was  thick,  but  its  tones  betrayed 
satisfaction. 

"  I  have  a  message  to  send  him,  and  lest  thy 
memory  should  be  overtaxed  I  have  committed 
it  to  writing.  Where  is  thy  money-bag  ?  " 


148  PASSE  ROSE. 

The  monk  showed  the  bag  whence  he  had 
taken  the  napkin. 

"  Is  it  secure  ?  "  asked  the  woman,  testing  its 
cord,  and  at  the  same  time  putting  within  it 
something  she  drew  from  her  bosom.  "De 
liver  it  into  the  prior's  own  hand  without  fail, 
and  may  God  keep  thee." 

Followed  by  the  monk,  the  speaker  retraced 
her  steps,  and  Passe  Rose,  fearing  to  be  seen, 
let  go  the  curtain. 

"  Remember  thou  givest  the  parchment  into 
the  prior's  own  hand.  Thou  shouldst  have 
heard  the  queen  praise  thy  work ;  it  was  mar 
velous." 

"  Honey-tongue  !  "  thought  Passe  Rose.  They 
were  now  close  by,  and  she  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  to  part  the  curtain  again  the  width 
of  her  eye  ;  and  there,  beaming  with  self-com 
placency,  stood  the  monk  who  rode  the  gray 
mule. 

"  From  whom  shall  I  say  —  should  the  prior 
ask  "  —  he  stammered,  under  the  woman's  soft 
eyes. 

The  latter  hesitated,  balancing  something  in 
her  mind.  Then,  after  a  moment,  "  Rothilde," 
she  whispered. 

"  By  St.  Martin,"  thought  Passe  Rose,  "  the 
gospel  was  right." 

"Here  comes  thy  mule.     God  speed  thee," 


PASSE  ROSE.  149 

said  the  woman  to  the  monk,  and,  retreating 
from  the  doorway  to  escape  the  observation  of 
those  who  brought  the  mule,  she  glided  down 
the  room  and  disappeared  in  the  obscurity. 

Brother  Dominic,  little  thinking  that  only  a 
hempen  curtain  separated  him  from  the  demon, 
smiled  in  the  doorway.  He  had  expected  to 
win  the  queen's  praise,  but  it  was  news  to  him 
that  he  stood  high  in  the  prior's  favor.  As  for 
the  woman's  voice,  it  was  sweeter  than  the  king's 
wine. 

"  If  the  sight  of  me  were  not  too  much  for 
thee,  dear  monk,"  said  Passe  Kose,  thinking  of 
Friedgis,  "  I  also  would  intrust  thee  with  a  mes 
sage." 

The  mule  was  at  the  door,  and  Brother  Dom 
inic  was  preparing  to  mount.  "  Hold  thyself 
steady  till  I  am  firmly  on,"  he  said  coaxingly. 
"  So  —  there,  now,  by  God's  grace  we  will  reach 
Vise  to-night,  and  to-morrow  "  — 

"  Good  father  "  —  said  a  voice  within  the 
door,  from  behind  the  curtain.  The  monk 
turned  in  his  seat  as  best  he  could,  but  discov 
ered  no  one.  "  As  thou  goest  from  the  square 
of  St.  Sebastian  by  the  house  of  Werdric  the 
goldsmith,  knock  at  the  garden  gate,  and  say  to 
Jeanne,  his  wife,  that  I  am  well,  and  send  her 
greeting." 

Partly  from  surprise  and  partly  because  of 


* 


150  PASSE  ROSE. 

the  mule's  impatience,  Brother  Dominic  found 
no  reply  at  hand.  To  tell  the  truth,  he  had 
fully  recovered  from  neither  the  wine  taken  at 
supper  nor  the  nap  so  suddenly  interrupted. 

"  My  voice  is  not  so  sweet  as  the  other's," 
continued  Passe  Rose,  "  but  if  thou  givest  my 
message  I  will  thank  thee  none  the  less ;  and  if 
it  tax  not  thy  memory  overmuch,  say  the  sender 
is  Passe  Rose." 

By  this  time  Brother  Dominic  had  lost  all 
hope  of  checking  the  mule's  ardor.  It  was 
enough  for  him  if  he  were  able  to  guide  the 
beast  through  the  gateway,  through  which,  how 
ever,  he  passed  in  safety,  but  with  sorely  con 
fused  ideas  of  his  messages,  their  mysterious 
senders,  and  those  to  whom  he  was  to  deliver 
them. 

Having  watched  the  monk  through  the  gate, 
and  waited  till  all  was  silent  again,  Passe  Rose, 
satisfied  that  she  was  alone,  unlaced  her  sleeve, 
loosed  the  band  about  her  hair,  and,  kneeling 
down  beside  the  shallow  basin  on  the  floor,  near 
the  bed,  began  to  bathe  her  face  and  neck  in 
the  cool  water.  While  she  was  thus  occupied 
came  Gesualda  with  Heluiz  of  Hesbaye,  —  the 
former  having  sought  permission  to  bring  the 
girl  to  supper,  the  latter  accompanying  her  at 
the  command  of  Mistress  Chlodine,  who  would 
as  soon  have  trusted  a  filly  in  the  open  field  as 


PASSE  ROSE.  151 

Gesualda  with  liberty.  Passe  Rose  had  taken 
her  dagger  from  her  bosom,  and,  bending  above 
the  basin,  was  parting  her  long  hair  with  the 
blade's  point,  so  that  she  neither  saw  nor  heard 
anything  till,  throwing  back  the  hair  from  before 
her  eyes,  she  looked  up,  and  perceived  the  two 
standing  hand  in  hand  without  the  parted  cur 
tain.  Gesualda's  face  was  pretty  enough ;  what 
it  lacked  the  queen's  toilet  chest  could  not  fur 
nish,  —  a  certain  depth  of  expression  beyond 
her  years ;  yet  Passe  Rose  passed  it  by  to  rest 
her  gaze  upon  Heluiz,  who  looked  neither  upon 
her  soiled  feet  nor  her  disheveled  hair,  but 
steadfastly,  with  a  kindly  promise  of  amity,  into 
her  eyes. 

"Thou  hast  a  stout  comb,"  said  Gesualda. 
who  had  watched  the  dagger's  passage  through 
the  shining  hair. 

"It  hath  served  many  a  purpose,"  replied 
Passe  Rose,  seeking  to  fasten  the  neck-band  over 
her  bosom,  while  still  looking  at  Heluiz. 

Nothing  daunted,  Gesualda  advanced  and  sat 
down  on  the  bench's  edge. 

"  I  have  an  ivory  one,  white  as  a  dog's  tooth, 
I  will  give  thee,  for  a  tale  or  a  dance  at  supper," 
she  said,  scrutinizing  the  bells  which  bordered 
Passe  Rose's  dress. 

Little  had  the  latter  thought,  when  boasting 
to  Friedgis  beside  the  abbey  pond,  that  she  was 


152  PASSE  ROSE. 

to  dance  like  the  water  stars  for  those  that  shine 
in  the  sky  ;  but  her  pride  was  numbed  with  the 
dread  of  leaving  the  place.  Had  the  servants 
driven  her  from  the  gate,  she  would  have  hov 
ered  about  the  skirt  of  wood.  Her  thought  was 
no  more  of  silk  or  pearls  ;  she  had  lost  all  mem 
ory  of  Jeanne's  tears,  the  shame  of  their  parting, 
and  the  weary  journey  in  the  forest ;  a  single 
face  barred  every  way  to  which  her  thought 
turned,  the  face  of  Agnes  of  Solier,  and  the  bit 
terness  and  loneliness  of  her  heart  uprose  in  a 
single  hate  against  this  face  which  stood  between 
her  and  her  soul's  desire.  For  the  love  which 
unawares  had  consoled  her  in  her  wandering, 
self-confessed  and  unrebuked,  now  mastered 
every  other  desire. 

"  Wilt  thou  come?  "  persisted  Gesualda. 

"  I  am  ready,"  replied  Passe  Rose,  rising  from 
her  knees. 

The  three  crossed  the  room  to  the  doorway 
through  which  Rothflde  had  passed,  Gesualda 
leading.  This  door  led  to  a  flight  of  stairs, 
which  they  ascended  to  the  floor  above,  where  a 
corridor  with  openings  upon  the  court  conducted 
to  a  spacious  vestibule.  Between  its  pillars 
hung  white  cloths  fringed  with  purple,  and,  as 
they  entered,  sounds  of  approaching  voices  were 
heard  between  the  curtains.  Whispering  a  word 
to  Gesualda,  Heluiz  drew  Passe  Rose  aside. 


PASSE  ROSE.  153 

The  voices  grew  louder,  two  pages  held  back 
the  swaying  drapery,  and  a  merry  company  came 
forth  from  the  room  beyond.  It  was  the  women 
of  the  princesses'  service  passing  to  supper. 

"  Come  with  me,"  said  Heluiz,  taking  Passe 
Rose  by  the  hand,  and  drawing  her  into  the 
apartment  whence  the  women  had  issued.  Hur 
rying  across  it  to  one  of  the  smaller  rooms  sur 
rounding  its  three  sides,  she  called  to  a  serving- 
maid  loitering  by  the  water-tank,  and,  putting 
into  Passe  Rose's  fingers  the  key  she  took  from 
her  girdle,  said,  •"  Take  what  thou  wilt  from  the 
chest  within  ;  thou  canst  return  it  when  supper 
is  ended ;  "  and  to  the  maid,  "  Bring  water  for 
her  feet,  give  her  sandals,  and  wait  upon  her ; " 
saying  which,  she  hastened  back  to  join  the 
others  at  supper. 

The  maid,  filling  her  basin  from  the  pool,  re 
garded  Passe  Rose  with  curiosity.  Passe  Rose, 
alone  with  the  maid,  looked  about  her  in  no  less 
wonder.  Sitting  where  she  was  bidden,  she  gave 
herself  over  to  the  girl's  service,  gazing  down  at 
her  own  feet  in  the  limpid  water  which  curled 
about  her  ankles,  giving  forth  a  scent  of  roses 
under  the  maid's  hand.  Having  finished  her 
task,  with  a  sulky  face  at  having  to  serve  one 
whom  she  took  to  be  of  no  dignity  or  degree,  the 
maid  stood  by,  waiting  to  see  what  orders  Passe 
Rose  dared  to  give.  But  Passe  Rose  did  not 


154  PASSE  ROSE. 

observe  her.  The  warm  colors  on  the  walls,  the 
soft  cushions  of  brilliant  hues,  the  lustre  of  en 
ameled  tiles  strewn  with  sweet-smelling  herbs, 
delighted  her  senses,  and,  refreshed  by  the  cool 
ing  water,  she  sat  gazing  about  her,  holding  the 
key  in  her  hand.  The  girl  brought  her  sandals, 
finished  with  soft  leather  reaching  half-way  to 
the  knee,  and,  suiting  her  motions  to  the  maid's 
endeavor,  Passe  Rose  was  watching  the  fitting 
of  the  hooks  in  the  silver  eyelets,  when  the  wind 
lifted  the  curtain  of  the  vestibule,  bringing  the 
sound  of  voices  from  those  at  supper. 

She  rose  quickly  to  her  feet,  saying  "  Enough ! " 
to  her  curious  attendant,  and  entered  the  side 
room  which  Heluiz  had  designated.  A  couch 
covered  with  a  serge  cloth  occupied  one  angle  ; 
in  the  other  stood  the  chest  whose  key  she  held ; 
between  these  a  square  window,  high  up,  admit 
ted  the  light  from  the  corridor.  Below  the  win 
dow  was  a  recess  in  the  wall,  containing  a  mirror 
of  polished  metal  mounted  on  a  bronze  stand, 
with  other  articles  of  toilet.  From  among  these 
Passe  Rose  took  a  comb  and  a  long  silken  band, 
and  began  to  braid  her  hair,  still  hanging  over 
her  shoulders,  weaving  the  band  in  and  out  deftly 
between  the  braids.  Having  finished,  she  fitted 
the  key  to  the  chest's  clasp  and  raised  the  lid. 
On  the  top  lay  a  mantle,  covered  with  the  finest 
plumage  of  the  peacock's  neck  and  bordered 


PASSE  ROSE.  155 

with  swan's  down,  and  above  her  shone  the  mir 
ror,  with  the  lines  of  her  sloping  shoulders  in  its 
dark  face.  She  smoothed  the  mantle  with  her 
finger-tips,  lifted  it  cautiously  to  feel  its  weight, 
held  it  high  in  the  beam  of  light,  then  spread  it 
about  her  neck.  To  slip  the  pin  in  the  double 
clasp  at  the  throat  was  the  work  of  a  moment ; 
the  touch  of  the  plumage  upon  her  down-bent 
chin  was  soft  to  feel,  but  to  observe  the  garment 
well  she  must  needs  turn  her  head  with  a  side- 
wise  glance  over  her  shoulders,  and  there,  in  the 
doorway,  stood  Jesse*,  the  page,  his  eye  sparkling 
with  admiration,  and  his  message  sticking  fast 
in  his  throat. 

Thinking  he  summoned  her  to  supper,  Passe 
Rose  laid  the  mantle  quickly  in  the  chest,  turn 
ing  the  key,  and,  taking  the  boy's  hand,  crossed 
the  room.  But  on  reaching  the  vestibule  the 
youth  found  his  tongue. 

"  The  captain,  Gui  of  Tours,"  he  stammered, 
holding  out  her  collar  of  gold,  "  bade  me  bring 
thee  this  token  that  he  waits  in  the  strangers' 
court  to  speak  with  thee." 

Passe  Rose  took  the  jewel  from  his  outstretched 
hand. 

"  Dost  thou  know  the  place  where  they  are  at 
supper  ?  "  she  asked,  smiling  upon  him. 

"  Surely,"  replied  the  boy ;  "  it  is  there, 
straight  on,"  pointing  the  way. 


156  PASSE  ROSE. 

"  Go  tell  the  captain,"  said  Passe  Rose,  "  that 
I  am  gone  to  dance  before  Agnes  of  Solier,  his 
betrothed,  having  a  fancy  to  see  her  so  strong 
that  I  cannot  come."  Saying  which  she  left  the 
page  gazing  after  her,  and  disappeared  in  the 
direction  he  had  indicated. 


XII. 

Not  since  she  saw  the  candle  burning  in  her 
chamber  window,  on  her  return  from  the  abbey 
of  St.  Servais,  had  Passe  Rose  felt  so  light  of 
heart  as  now,  entering  the  supper-room  of  Imma- 
burg.  In  its  doorway  she  stood  on  the  threshold 
of  her  ambition,  and  Jeanne's  garden  seemed  far 
away.  Have  you  seen  the  bright  edge  of  clouds 
piled  high  against  the  sun's  disk  at  dusk  ?  The 
passage  of  the  Lady  Adelhaide  with  her  train  in 
the  streets  of  Maestricht  had  been  nothing  less 
to  Passe  Rose  than  that  glimpse  of  splendor 
lying  on  the  farther  side  of  the  cloud,  where  the 
sun  is ;  and  here  she  was,  passing  into  the  glory 
of  the  king's  court,  where,  come  what  might,  she 
was  resolved  to  stay. 

As  she  entered,  servants  were  removing  from 
the  dresser  a  quarter  of  roe-deer  garnished  with 
flowers  and  jelly  of  loach ;  others  were  bringing 
wine  and  spices,  and  Passe  Rose,  who  lived  to 


PASSE  ROSE.  157 

the  full  each  passing  moment,  while  searching 
for  Agnes  of  Solier  among  those  at  table,  saw 
these  and  many  other  things,  enjoying  all  as 
they  were  her  own.  She  took  no  notice  of  the 
surprise  occasioned  by  her  coming  before  she 
was  bidden,  turning  her  eyes  slowly  from  face  to 
face  till  they  fell  upon  Agnes,  sitting  in  the 
chief  seat,  Mistress  Chlodine  being  in  chapel  at 
prayers  for  the  safety  of  the  night  journey. 

"  Come  hither ;  have  no  fear,"  said  Ge&ualda, 
who,  although  the  youngest,  was  the  readiest 
with  her  tongue. 

Advancing  slowly  to  the  centre  of  the  room, 
Passe  Rose  stopped,  her  gaze  still  fixed  upon 
Agnes  of  Solier. 

"  What  is  thy  name  ?  "  asked  the  latter,  wash 
ing  her  hands  in  the  basin  offered  by  a  page. 

"  Passe  Rose,"  replied  the  girl,  returning  the 
curious  glances  directed  upon  her,  and  observing 
Rothilde  at  Agnes'  side. 

"  Passe  Rose  ?  "  repeated  Gesualda.  "  That 
is  a  strange  name.  Whence  dost  thou  come  ?  " 

"  From  whence  the  swallows  come  at  night," 
replied  Passe  Rose. 

"  Hast  thou  no  master,  no  kin  ?  "  asked  Agnes 
of  Solier. 

"  Nay  ;  I  am  free." 

"  Thou  saidst  thou  wouldst  dance  for  us," 
said  Gesualda.  "  Thou  hast  a  pretty  foot,  since 
it  goes  into  the  sandals  of  Heluiz." 


158  PASSE  ROSE. 

"  I  danced  once  before  the  Queen  Hildegarde, 
and  I  have  made  a  vow  to  dance  no  more  except 
before  a  queen,"  replied  Passe  Rose. 

Gesualda  opened  wide  her  eyes.  "  Before 
Queen  Hildegarde  !  Pray  what  is  thine  age  ?  " 

At  this  moment  Passe  Rose  caught  Rothilde's 
eye,  and,  without  heeding  Gesualda's  question, 
began  to  fasten  about  her  neck  the  collar  Gui 
had  sent  by  the  page,  exposing  it  full  to  view. 
The  Saxon  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise. 

"  Whence  hadst  thou  my  collar  ?  "  she  ex 
claimed,  spilling  her  cup  as  she  leaned  forward 
over  the  table. 

"By  St.  Martin,"  replied  Passe  Rose  care 
lessly,  "  that  is  the  question  which  Friedgis,  the 
Saxon  serf  who  keeps  the  gate  for  the  monks  of 
the  blessed  St.  Servais,  asked  me,  and  I  am  tired 
of  answering  it." 

At  the  mention  of  Friedgis'  name  Rothilde 
fell  back  in  her  seat,  turning  pale. 

"  What  ails  thee  ?  "  asked  Agnes,  observing 
her  pallor.  "  If  the  jewel  is  thine  "  — 

"  Give  it  her  to  see  ! "  exclaimed  Gesualda. 
"  Bid  her  give  it,  Agnes  !  "  she  said  excitedly, 
rising  from  the  table,  with  a  glance  of  suspicion 
at  Passe  Rose. 

As  she  spoke  Gui  appeared  in  the  doorway, 
and  at  the  sound  of  his  step  an  insolent  light 
gleamed  in  Passe  Rose's  eyes.  The  message 


PASSE  ROSE.  159 

she  had  sent  her  lover  by  the  page,  seasoned 
though  it  was  with  bitterness  and  cold  with 
seeming  indifference,  was  little  else  than  the  call 
of  the  wounded  bird  to  its  mate  ;  and  when  first 
her  ear  caught  his  step  she  knew  for  whom  he 
came. 

"  The  jewel  was  given  me  by  my  lover,"  she 
said,  looking  straight  into  Agnes'  face,  "  and  I 
swore  at  the  time  to  give  it  into  no  hand  but 
his." 

"  Let  it  pass,"  whispered  Heluiz  to  Agnes, 
pressing  her  hand  beneath  the  table.  But  the 
words  on  the  latter's  lips  were  beyond  restraint. 
Gui's  first  glance  had  been  for  Passe  Rose. 
Agnes  had  noted  it  well.  "  Captain,"  she  said 
haughtily,  "  bring  me,  I  pray  thee,  the  girl's 
collar,  that  I  may  show  it  to  Rothilde." 

"Thou  hast  chosen  well,"  said  Passe  Rose, 
turning  for  the  first  time  to  Gui.  "  It  was  the 
captain  who  gave  it  me,  and  he  may  have  it  if 
he  will." 

Between  differences  of  wealth  and  station, 
where  no  love  is,  a  man  may  waver  ;  but  for  Gui 
to  be  at  Passe  Rose's  side  was  station  enough, 
and  the  message  in  her  eyes  more  than  gold. 
"  To  this  girl,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand,  "  I 
gave  the  protection  of  the  king.  Since  that  is 
not  ample  to  cover  her,  henceforth  she  is  under 


160  PASSE  EOSE. 

There  was  not  one  present  who,  at  these  words, 
did  not  expect  from  the  king's  favorite  some 
angry  retort  or  harsh  command,  and  not  one, 
remembering  afterwards  how  she  bore  herself, 
doubted  the  story  of  her  birth  ;  for  she  only 
laughed,  fondling  the  hound  beside  her  chair, 
and,  rising  from  table,  bade  the  others  follow 
her,  saying  to  Gui,  as  she  passed,  that  the  girl 
was  safe  now,  and  she  felt  at  ease  to  prepare  for 
the  journey,  —  just  as  often  the  king  himself, 
when  vexed  or  even  insulted,  had  been  seen  to 
put  the  occasion  by  with  a  jest,  and  bide  his 
time. 

"  If  the  girl  has  not  the  chance  to  dance  in 
truth  before  a  queen,  and  a  king  also,  ere  her 
oath  is  a  week  older,  then  am  I  no  prophet," 
thought  Gesualda,  as  they  left  the  room. 

Scarcely  were  they  gone,  whispering  together, 
with -backward  glances,  than  Passe  Rose  began 
to  speak,  as  if  she  would  give  the  captain  no 
chance  to  utter  a  word. 

"  I  fell  on  the  Saxon  maid  at  the  first  cast," 
she  said,  struggling  to  command  her  voice ;  but 
her  bravery  was  over,  and  she  retreated  towards 
the  table,  facing  Gui,  who  followed  her.  "  Thou 
shouldst  have  seen  her  face.  When  I  put  on 
the  collar  she  cried  out,  asking  whence  I  had  it. 
Did  I  not  tell  thee,  in  the  field?  I  said  to  her 
the  serf  "  — 


PASSE  ROSE.  161 

"  I  heard  thine  answer,  —  that  thy  lover  gave 
it  thee." 

"  Nay,"  said  Passe  Rose  hurriedly.  Her  eyes 
shone  and  her  voice  faltered.  "  I  said  the  serf 
Friedgis  put  me  the  same  question.  Thereupon 
the  Saxon  turned  white.  Does  a  woman  wax 
pale  and  swoon  on  finding  her  lover?"  Gui, 
advancing,  smiled,  and  Passe  Rose  knew  the 
color  on  her  cheek  was  answer  to  her  question. 
Still  receding,  she  found  her  retreat  cut  off  by 
Agnes'  chair.  The  collar  bound  her  swelling 
throat,  and  the  words  fell  nervously  from  her 
lips.  "  She  sent  a  message  to  the  prior  by  the 
monk.  Her  voice  is  like  honey  and  wine.  The 
monk  was  drunk  with  it.  She  hath  soft  eyes, 
looking  down.  I  hate  such  "  — 

Gui  took  both  her  hands.  "  I  love  thee,"  he 
said. 

Passe  Rose  trembled  from  head  to  foot. 

"I  love  thee,"  repeated  the  captain.  His 
words  enveloped  her  like  a  mist.  In  an  instant 
his  arms  were  about  her.  Power  to  speak,  to 
stand,  strength  of  will  and  limb  alike,  were  fail 
ing  her,  when  suddenly,  like  a  spark  out  of  the 
dark,  came  the  thought  of  Agnes  of  Solier.  A 
quiver  ran  through  her  body,  and  she  slid  from 
his  arms  into  the  chair,  hiding  her  face  with  her 
hands. 

Seizing  them  by  the  wrists,  the  captain  drew 
them  away,  and  uncovered  her  eyes. 


162  PASSE  ROSE. 

"  How  happens  it,  being  betrothed  to  "  —  the 
words  died  on  her  lips —  "that  thou  lovest  me?  " 
She  had  twisted  her  wrists  from  his  grasp,  and, 
shrinking  back  in  the  chair,  trembled. 

"  I  swear  "  —  cried  Gui  passionately,  seeking 
her  hands. 

u  Sh ! "  said  Passe  Rose,  leaning  forward 
suddenly,  and  covering  his  mouth  with  her  fin 
gers. 

It  was  Mistress  Chlodine  returning  from 
prayers.  Her  eye  glanced  down  the  deserted 
table,  and  she  had  certainly  discovered  Passe 
Rose,  crouching  breathless  in  the  chair,  had  not 
the  captain  come  boldly  forward  between  the 
two. 

"  Countess,"  said  he  courteously,  but  chafing 
inwardly,  "  the  sixth  hour  is  just  called,  and 
time  presses.  To  a  man  on  a  good  horse  an 
hour  is  nothing,  but  with  baggage  and  women's 
litters  "  — 

"  Have  no  fear,"  she  replied.  "  In  an  hour's 
time  all  will  be  ready,"  and  she  passed  out 
whither  the  others  had  gone,  observing  nothing, 
for  the  room,  dimly  lighted  from  without,  was 
growing  dark. 

Now  it  happened  that  Brother  Dominic, 
whether  because  of  the  wine  he  had  at  supper 
or  the  conversation  he  had  with  Rothilde,  whose 
presence  lingered  with  him  like  odor  of  musk, 


PASSE  ROSE.  163 

had  gotten  no  farther  than  the  outer  gate,  when 
he  began  to  query  whether  the  written  message 
in  his  pouch  or  the  spoken  one  of  Passe  Rose 
was  for  the  prior.  In  vain  did  he  cudgel  both 
his  wits  and  the  mule  ;  and  having  so  excellent 
a  reason  for  hearing  that  sweet  voice  again,  he 
turned  back  to  the  room  where  he  had  supped. 
Finding  it  empty,  he  left  the  mule  at  the  door, 
making  inquiries  of  all  he  met  for  two  women,  — 
though  his  thoughts  were  of  one  only,  —  till  at 
last,  full  of  misgivings,  and  so  bewildered  by 
many  turnings  that  he  began  to  think  of  noth 
ing  but  to  find  his  rnule  again,  he  came  up  the 
private  stair  from  the  oratory  to  the  supper-room 
just  as  Mistress  Chlodine  finished  speaking,  to 
find  himself  face  to  face  with  the  captain,  furious 
at  this  second  interruption.  It  was  enough  for 
Brother  Dominic  to  be  thus  confronted  by  one 
whom  he  thought  beyond  redemption  in  the 
grasp  of  the  demon;  for  he  had  not  seen  the 
captain  since  they  parted  on  the  abbey  road. 
What  then  was  his  terror  on  seeing  the  demon 
also  advancing  upon  him  from  behind  the  cap 
tain.  With  no  thought  but  of  flight,  the  monk 
retreated  precipitately  into  the  corridor ;  but 
before  he  had  passed  the  door  Passe  Rose  had 
him  by  the  sleeve. 

Holding    him  fast,  —  an    easy  task,  —  "  Go 
thou,"  she  said  to  Gui,  who  looked  on  in  amaze- 


164  PASSE  ROSE. 

ment.  "  Nay,  listen, "  for  the  captain  advanced 
towards  her :  "  go  thou  and  prepare  a  litter  for 
me  also,  and  come  again  quickly  to  the  chapel." 
An  exclamation  of  love  and  remonstrance  burst 
from  the  captain's  lips.  "  Nay,"  cried  Passe 
Eose,  stretching  out  her  arm  forbiddingly.  "  As 
thou  lovest  me,  go ;  and,  as  thou  lovest  me, 
come  shortly."  Saying  which,  she  drew  the 
monk  with  her  into  the  passage,  leaving  the 
astonished  captain  as  she  had  left  him  in  the 
wood  of  Hesbaye,  and  on  the  road  which  de 
scends  to  Maestricht,  consumed  with  love,  yet 
loath  to  disobey. 

Deserted  by  the  captain,  and  alone  with  the 
girl  in  an  obscure  corridor,  Brother  Dominic 
planted  his  feet  as  firmly  as  ever  his  mule  had 
done,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross  above  his 
tormentor's  head. 

"  Blood  and  death  !  "  cried  Passe  Rose,  in  no 
mood  to  trifle  with  his  terror,  "  art  thou  mad  ? 
Only  show  me  the  way  to  the  chapel.  Do  de 
mons  seek  the  altars  of  God  ?  "  Somewhat 
assured  by  this  reflection,  Brother  Dominic 
ceased  his  gesticulations,  but  still  stood,  obsti 
nate,  his  back  against  the  wall.  "  Feel  my 
arm,"  said  Passe  Rose,  thrusting  it  under  his 
nose ;  "  hath  a  devil  flesh  and  blood  ?  Do  thou 
pass  first,  and  I  will  follow."  By  no  means 
convinced,  but  persuaded  that  compliance  was 


PASSE  ROSE.  165 

the  door  of  his  safety,  the  monk  shuffled  down 
the  corridor,  taking  by  good  luck  the  stair  to 
the  chapel,  for  he  had  no  recollection  of  the  way 
he  had  come.  The  private  stair  by  which  they 
descended  opened  directly  into  the  porch  in  front 
of  the  curtain.  "  May  the  blessed  St.  Servais 
reward  thee,"  said  Passe  Rose,  as  they  emerged 
into  the  air.  A  few  penitents,  who  had  been 
listening  to  the  service  within,  were  still  pros 
trated  before  the  curtain.  "Hast  thou  the 
message  safe  which  I  gave  thee  ? "  she  whis 
pered  in  his  ear.  "  I  thought  by  this  time  thou 
wouldst  be  well  on  thy  way." 

"  The  message  "  —  stammered  the  monk,  be 
wildered,  and  fumbling  in  his  bag. 

"  Aye,  for  the  prior  —  quick  —  let  me  see." 

"  Here  it  is,"  replied  the  monk,  drawing  it 
forth ;  "  but  surely  it  was  the  other  gave  it 
me." 

"What  other?"  said  Passe  Rose,  taking  it 
quickly.  "  Tut,  tut,  dear  monk,  thou  art  be 
witched.  Say  to  the  prior  I  have  more  to  add 
to  it,  and  will  send  it  by  the  captain  when  next 
he  goes  to  inquire  for  the  abbot's  health.  Fare 
well."  With  this  she  wrapped  the  parchment 
about  her  dagger,  with  the  other  found  by  the 
abbey  pond,  and  lifting  the  curtain  disappeared 
within. 

The  torches  which  had  been  lighted   during 


166  PASSE  ROSE. 

the  vesper  service  were  extinguished,  and  for 
a  moment  Passe  Kose  could  see  nothing  but  the 
candle  of  yellow  wax  burning  under  the  cupola 
of  the  altar.  As  she  went  down  the  nave  she 
put  out  her  hand  instinctively  before  her,  till, 
becoming  accustomed  to  the  gloom,  she  per 
ceived  the  reading-desks  in  front  of  the  chancel 
and  the  iron  gates  leading  into  the  choir. 
Opening  one  of  these  gates,  she  passed  in,  and 
stood  contemplating  the  altar.  The  curtains 
between  the  columns  supporting  the  canopy 
were  drawn  aside,  and  the  dove  containing  the 
Eucharist,  hanging  by  four  silver  chains  between 
the  pillars,  was  visible.  Behind  the  altar,  on 
the  screen,  stood  two  angels  collecting  in  a  cup 
the  blood  flowing  from  the  feet  of  the  Christ  on 
a  cross  above  them.  Below  the  angels  was  a 
manger,  within  which  was  represented  an  in 
fant  wrapped  in  swaddling-clothes.  Passe  Rose 
gazed  in  silence  at  these  things,  which  seemed 
profoundly  to  affect  her.  Her  face  shone,  and 
one  hand  rested  on  her  bosom.  If  she  thought 
of  the  image  lying  broken  on  the  floor  of  her 
chamber  where  she  had  hurled  it,  she  made  no 
effort  to  reconcile  that  act  of  anger  with  her 
present  purpose,  One  thing  she  knew,  —  she 
loved  ;  and  this  love,  unutterably  precious,  in 
which  she  exulted  and  for  which  she  trembled, 
she  had  brought  to  the  protecting  shelter  of  the 


PASSE  ROSE.  167 

power  so  mysteriously  symbolized  in  the  em 
blems  before  her.  Absorbed  in  contemplation, 
she  remained  motionless,  scarcely  breathing, 
when  a  voice  close  beside  her  said  :  — 

"  Woman,  what  seekest  thou  ?  " 

Passe  Rose  turned  her  head,  and  saw  a  priest. 
Hearing  the  clang  of  the  chancel  gate,  he  had 
come  out  from  the  vestry,  where  he  was  disrob 
ing,  and  perceiving  a  woman  within  the  railing, 
whose  upturned  face  he  scrutinized  in  vain,  and 
whose  strange  dress  proclaimed  her  no  ordinary 
inmate  of  the  villa,  had  hastened  to  ask  her 
errand.  Passe  Rose  seemed  in  no  wise  sur 
prised  by  his  presence.  She  stood  smiling,  her 
hand  still  resting  on  her  bosom. 

"  Whom  seekest  thou  ?  "  repeated  the  priest. 

Passe  Rose  turned  her  ear  to  the  porch  and 
listened.  The  neighing  of  horses  in  the  court 
could  be  heard,  but  the  church  was  silent. 
"  Father,"  she  said,  "  we  have  need  of  thy  bless 
ing.  Come."  Descending  the  chancel  stair,  she 
opened  the  gate,  and  listened  again.  It  was  evi 
dent  that  she  expected  some  one,  and  the  priest, 
following  her  motions,  peered  into  the  darkness 
which  enveloped  them.  "  Have  patience,"  whis 
pered  Passe  Rose,  "  he  will  come ;  let  us  wait 
in  the  porch,"  and  she  extended  her  hand. 

"  For  whom  dost  thou  wait  ? "  asked  the 
priest,  observing  the  girl  suspiciously. 


168  PASSE  ROSE. 

A  quick  blush  overran  her  face.  "  Knowest 
thou  the  captain,  Gui  of  Tours  ?  "  The  priest 
assented.  "  It  is  he  —  we  seek  thy  blessing." 
The  captain  was  well  known  to  the  priest,  and, 
seeing  the  girl  color,  he  doubted  not  into  what 
manner  of  adventure  she  had  fallen.  "  Come," 
she  stammered.  Chilled  by  the  expression  on 
his  face,  she  began  to  tremble. 

"  Thou  hast  sinned,"  he  said  gravely,  eying 
her  steadfastly. 

Passe  Rose  looked  up  quickly.  "  Nay,  to  love 
—  that  is  no  sin "  —  She  stopped,  her  con 
fusion  increasing.  "  Is  it  not  in  the  porch  that 
they  who  love  receive  thy  blessing  ?  Said  I  not 
we  seek  it?"  Her  voice  faltered.  She  read  on 
his  face  the  expression  she  had  seen  on  that  of 
Friedgis,  by  the  pond. 

"  Is  she  mad  or  foolish  ?  "  the  priest  was  say 
ing  to  himself. 

"  Knowest  tbou  not  that  Gui  of  Tours  is  be 
trothed  ?  The  king  himself  was  present  at  the 
espousals.  Who  art  thou  ?  Tell  me  all,"  he  said 
gently,  for  he  saw  her  limbs  tremble  as  with 
cold. 

But  Passe  Rose,  retreating  through  the  gate, 
shook  her  head.  "  He  will  come,"  she  mur 
mured  ;  "  he  hath  promised.'* 

"  To  marry  thee  ?  "  Passe  Rose,  holding  fast 
to  the  gate,  nodded.  So  astonished  was  the 


PASSE  ROSE.  169 

priest  that  he  smiled  incredulously.  At  this 
smile  the  girl  quivered  like  a  tree  when  the 
lance  strikes  fast  in  its  heart.  "  Daughter,"  he 
said  gently,  "  the  blessing  thou  seekest  were  of 
no  avail "  — 

"  Thou  refusest !  "  interrupted  Passe  Rose 
hoarsely.  The  priest  sighed.  The  girl  had 
turned  away  her  eyes,  and  was  gazing  at  the 
altar.  Beside  the  screen  were  two  nuptial 
crowns.  Suddenly  she  drew  herself  erect.  "  It 
is  well  —  thy  blessings  are  for  the  great  —  Be 
cause  I  come  to  thy  porch  with  no  train  of  dam 
sels  nor  sponsors  "  —  Her  throat  swelled.  "  If 
I  brought  thee  my  shame,  thou  wouldst  receive 
it.  I  have  come  with  my  love,  and  thou  wilt 
have  none  of  it.  So  be  it,  —  so  be  it,"  she  re 
peated  to  herself,  casting  a  scornful  glance  at 
the  altar.  "  The  Saxon  spoke  well ;  henceforth 
thy  king  and  thy  God  are  nothing  to  me." 

Hot  with  passion,  she  had  scarce  passed  the 
chancel  gate  when  she  saw  the  captain,  who,  en 
tranced  by  her  promise  to  accompany  him  that 
night  to  Aix,  advanced  eagerly  from  the  porch 
to  meet  her.  She  stopped  short,  her  feet  rooted 
to  the  flagstone  like  a  tree  to  the  soil.  The 
blood  ran  from  her  face  and  neck ;  with  a  con 
vulsive  effort  to  reach  the  priest's  side,  she  cried, 
"  Father,  save  me ! "  Then  the  walls  rocked 
before  her  eyes,  as  the  walls  of  the  house  before 


170  PASSE  ROSE. 

the  eyes  of  the  revelers,  when  Samson  laid  hold 
of  the  pillars. 

When  she  awoke,  she  felt  the  cool  autumn  air 
upon  her  face.  Was  she  still  in  the  wood  of 
Hesbaye  ?  Nay,  she  thought,  raising  herself  on 
her  elbows.  She  was  in  a  cart,  and  her  limbs 
were  sore  with  the  jolting.  Crawling  to  the 
opening,  she  looked  out  from  under  the  cover 
of  skins.  A  long  cavalcade  of  wagons  and  horse 
men  stretched  before  her.  Through  the  smoke  of 
the  torches  she  saw  stars  and  waving  branches. 
The  red  flames  streamed  in  the  wind,  and  shone 
on  the  metal  plates  of  the  harness.  Returning 
to  her  rough  bed,  she  endeavored  to  collect  her 
thoughts,  watching  the  reflections  dancing  on 
the  covering  over  her  head.  All  at  once  these 
reflections  disappeared  in  a  man's  shadow.  She 
lifted  her  head.  "  Hush  !  "  said  a  voice  which 
made  her  blood  quicken.  "  Art  thou  well  ? 
There  is  wine  beside  thee.  Reach  hither  thy 
hand."  She  put  forth  her  hand.  "  I  swore  to 
the  priest  by  the  sacred  books,  and  thou  hast 
his  blessing.  Art  thou  satisfied  ? "  A  hand 
pressed  hers  to  the  lips  which  spoke.  "  Sleep 
on,  and  fear  nothing." 

Passe  Rose  lay  down  again.  The  jolting  cart 
pained  her  no  longer.  She  had  no  need  of  wine 
or  sleep.  An  ecstasy  of  joy  possessed  her,  and 
she  smiled,  alone,  in  the  darkness. 


PASSE  ROSE.  171 

If  one  has  not  seen  in  midwinter  a  gray  birch 
copse  filled  quickly  with  such  a  wealth  of  sun 
that  the  very  buds  seem  to  swell,  though  the 
ice-drops  hang  from  the  tips  of  the  twigs  ;  if  one 
has  not  seen  a  dull  waste  of  sea  under  a  rack  of 
low  cloud  answer  a  random  slant  of  sun  with  a 
play  of  such  colors  as  fire  the  stone  in  the  brooch 
of  the  king's  mantle  ;  nay,  if  one  has  not  felt 
within  his  own  breast,  though  for  no  longer  a 
time  than  the  passing  of  a  bird's  shadow,  the 
presentiment  of  an  endless  joy,  one  would  never 
understand  how  Passe  Rose  should  so  smile  and 
dream  011  her  bed  of  skins  in  the  king's  baggage- 
wagon.  f  Fears  enough  were  ready  to  assail  her, 
pressing  close  as  the  night  without  on  the 
torches,  yet  held  aloof,  as  it  were,  by  that  smile ; 
and  just  as  the  torches'  flame  flared  brighter 
and  their  fiery  sparks  leaped  higher  for  the  very 
thickness  of  the  shadows,  so  was  her  joy  sharp 
ened  by  her  heart's  hunger. 

Suddenly  the  wagon  stopped  ;  there  was  neigh 
ing  of  frightened  horses  and  stamping  of  hoofs 
on  the  loose  stones,  for  they  had  come  to  the 
ford  of  the  Wurm,  and  the  water  was  high  be 
cause  of  the  rains.  Rising  on  her  hands  and 
knees,  Passe  Rose  peered  between  the  loosely 
sewed  covering.  Blocked  by  those  in  advance, 
the  wagons  stood  three  abreast  at  the  edge  of 
the  shoal.  She  could  see  horsemen  sounding 


172  PASSE  ROSE. 

the  river  shallows  with  their  lances,  the  glare  of 
uplifted  torches  reflected  in  their  armor  plates 
and  dancing  on  the  swollen  waters.  The  fore 
most  wagon  was  already  midway  in  the  stream  ; 
its  horses,  snorting  with  fear,  pricked  forward 
their  ears,  scattering  the  spray  at  every  hesitat 
ing  step  upon  the  leather  pleatings  of  their 
riders'  tunics. 

"  Is  there  danger  ?  "  cried  Mistress  Chlodine, 
from  the  wagon  in  front. 

"  Nay,"  replied  a  horseman,  "  the  bottom  is 
firm  ;  have  no  fear." 

Passe  Hose,  widening  the  crevice  between  the 
skins  with  her  fingers,  searched  for  the  captain. 
As  she  looked,  a  low,  familiar  voice  issuing  from 
the  adjoining  wagon  caught  her  ear.  The  axle- 
ends  touched  each  other,  and  the  words  came 
distinctly :  — 

"  Tell  me,  then,  dear  Rothilde,  what  it  is  that 
wins  a  man's  fancy.  If  to  be  a  king's  daughter, 
and  to  possess  beauty  "  —  Then  the  words  were 
lost  amid  the  shoutings. 

Passe  Rose  pressed  her  ear  to  the  opening. 

"  Which  thinkest  thou  hast  the  greater  beau 
ty  ?  "  said  the  voice  of  Gesualda  again. 

"  It  is  plain  what  the  captain  thought,"  re 
plied  the  other  ;  then  a  horse  shook  himself,  and 
the  voic»  was  drowned  in  the  rattle  of  the  har 
ness. 


PASSE  ROSE.  173 

"  One  would  say  she  thought  to  wed  him  on 
the  spot,"  laughed  Gesualda. 

"  He  will  have  her  no  other  way,  mark  me." 

"  Saints  of  God  !  a  dancing-girl  " 

"Moreover,  the  captain  will  do  her  bidding," 
pursued  the  other.  "  I  noted  them  both  well. 
She  hath  his  heart,  and  the  king  himself  cannot 
buy  it  from  her  with  the  treasure  of  the  Huns, 
though  for  his  own  daughter." 

"  What  a  king  cannot  possess  he  destroys/' 
said    Gesualda^    significantly ;    "  thou    shouldst 
know  that  well,  being  a  Saxon." 
There  was  a  moment  of  silence. 
"  If  Agnes  will  let  him.     Dost  thou  not  re 
member  what  the   priest    read  yestermorning: 
how,   when  Solomon   would   have   divided   the 
child  between  the  mothers  "  — 

"The  case  is  far  different,"  interrupted  Ge 
sualda.  "  Which  is  easier,  —  for  a  dancing-girl 
to  give  herself  to  a  captain,  or  for  a  king's 
daughter  to  forget  an  injury  ?  For  if  he  had 
Agnes'  heart,  he  gave  it  back  to  her  in  presence 

of  us  all.     Mark  well  what  I  tell  thee, this 

business    will   cost   him   dear.      One   hath   his 

heart ;  the  other  will  have  his  head  " 

"  Heu,  heu !  forward !  "  cried  a  horseman, 
brandishing  his  torch.  The  voices  ceased,  the 
horses  strained  to  the  task,  and  the  wagon 
whence  the  voices  proceeded  entered  the  river. 


174  PASSE  ROSE. 

Like  the  dazed  hound,  mute  under  the  scourge 
of  its  master,  so,  on  her  knees,  dazed  and  power 
less  to  reason,  Passe  Rose  remained  motionless. 
"  The  other  will  have  his  head  ;  "  and  then,  like 
the  cut  of  a  whip's  lash,  "  Strumpet !  "  cried  the 
voice  of  Werdric.  Her  own  wagon  began  to 
move.  A  hand  thrust  aside  the  covering  in 
front,  and  she  saw  the  captain. 

"  Art  thou  afraid  ?  " 

«  Nay." 

He  made  a  movement  as  if  to  enter.  She 
held  up  her  hand.  He  smiled,  his  eyes  shining 
under  the  steel  rim  of  his  helmet,  then  disap 
peared.  Crawling  like  a  cat  over  the  skins  to 
the  rear  of  the  wagon,  Passe  Rose  drew  her  dag 
ger  from  her  bosom  and  made  a  rent  in  the  cov 
ering.  She  could  hear  the  gurgle  of  running 
waters,  the  wagon  swayed  on  the  rolling  stones, 
then  the  wheels  sank  in  the  yielding  sand,  — 
they  were  over.  The  leather  thong  fastening 
the  curtain  was  knotted  tightly.  She  took  her 
dagger  again,  and  widened  the  rent  clean  to  the 
bottom.  The  edge  was  keen,  and  in  her  haste  to 
thrust  the  weapon  back  in  her  garment  she  cut 
her  wrist.  Lifting  the  flap,  she  put  out  her  head. 
The  night  was  dark,  there  were  none  behind  her, 
—  the  way  was  open.  About  to  leap,  yet  she 
could  not  stir ;  it  seemed  to  her  that  her  heart 
was  in  a  vise,  that  it  was  not  beating.  Looking 


PASSE  ROSE.  175 

down,  she  saw  the  blood  upon  her  wrist.  Wet 
ting  her  finger  in  the  spot,  she  drew  on  the  cov 
ering  of  the  wagon  a  large  heart  transfixed  by  a 
dagger,  —  such  as  she  had  seen  of  marchpane 
and  sugared  sweets  at  the  fair  of  St.  Denis. 
The  sight  of  this  heart  seemed  to  give  her  pleas 
ure  as  she  contemplated  it.  "Heu,  heu!  "  cried 
a  driver.  With  a  rapid  twist  of  her  dagger  she 
cut  out  the  heart,  hid  it  with  the  blade  in  her 
bosom,  and  leaped. 

The  entire  train  had  crossed  the  ford,  and  the 
momentary  disorder  caused  by  the  passage  was 
repaired.  The  foremost  wagons,  having  waited 
for  those  which  followed,  had  begun  to  move 
again  ;  the  escort  were  taking  their  places ;  and 
the  horsemen,  appointed  to  close  the  march,  gal 
loping  down  the  line,  wheeled  into  position  al 
most  on  the  spot  where  Passe  Eose  had  leaped. 

"  By  the  mass  !  "  exclaimed  one,  leaning  for 
ward  on  his  horse's  neck  and  examining  the  rent 
covering,  "  one  would  say  the  claws  of  a  wild 
cat." 

The  other  —  that  Gascon  who  would  have 
saved  the  captain  from  the  demon  on  the  road  to 
Maestricht,  and  who,  having  seen  the  captain 
return  sound  of  body,  but  indisposed  to  answer 
the  questions  put  to  him,  and  having,  moreover, 
assisted  in  secretly  carrying  Passe  Rose  to  this 
very  wagon  as  the  train  drew  out  from  the  court 


176  PASSE  ROSE. 

at  Immaburg,  was  ready  to  swear  there  was 
more  flesh  than  spirit  in  the  business  —  thrust 
his  torch  eagerly  through  the  rent.  "  The  cage 
is  empty,"  he  said,  withdrawing  his  torch,  and, 
beginning  to  believe  that  the  monk  was  right, 
he  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  hastened  to  tell 
the  captain. 

XIII. 

It  had  been  felt  by  all  the  inmates  of  the  Ab 
bey  of  St.  Servais,  after  Brother  Dominic's  re 
turn  from  Immaburg,  that  his  journey  had 
wrought  in  him  some  strange  transformation. 
He  who  used  to  labor  at  his  desk  with  such  pa 
tience,  content  to  spend  an  entire  day  on  a  single 
gigantic  capital  (though  able  to  copy  in  that 
time  an  entire  epistle  of  the  blessed  St.  Peter  in 
Tironian  characters),  now  sighed  at  his  window 
like  a  longing  girl,  or  paced  the  garden  walks  in 
restless  self-communion.  Brother  Dominic  was 
himself  aware  of  this  change,  although  he  would 
have  strenuously  denied  it,  had  it  been  brought 
to  his  charge  ;  for  at  times,  in  the  oval  of  the 
capital  he  was  tracing,  a  face  looked  out  upon 
him,  his  pen  was  entangled  in  a  tress  of  yellow 
hair,  and  a  mist  of  blue  eyes  hid  the  page  alto 
gether. 

Keflecting  upon  his  experiences  at  Immaburg, 


PASSE  HOSE.  177 

he  was  at  least  ready  to  admit  there  was  that 
in  the  world  he  had  not  suspected,  and  that  the 
wine  of  a  king  is  sometimes  stronger  than  that 
of  an  abbot.  He  endeavored  in  vain,  however, 
to  retrace  in  sequence  the  events  of  his  journey. 
At  whichever  end  he  began,  he  came  always  to 
that  fatal  cup  on  the  eve  of  his  departure  from 
the  villa,  —  a  cup  in  which  the  strands  of  mem 
ory  had  dissolved  away.  Certain  he  was  that 
before  setting  out  from  the  abbey  he  was  no 
favorite  of  the  prior.  How  then  should  the 
woman  know  that  he  had  the  prior's  esteem  ? 
It  was  equally  true  that  before  his  journey  he 
gave  no  thought  to  the  coarseness  of  his  frock, 
which  now  irritated  and  displeased  him  as  he  re 
called  the  cendal  of  soft  texture  about  the  neck 
of  the  woman  who  roused  him  from  his  nap  in 
the  strangers'  hall  at  Immaburg.  So  dear  to 
him  had  been  his  copying-desk,  its  parchment 
and  inks  of  vermilion  and  gold,  that  when  he 
fell  asleep  he  was  dreaming  of  nothing  more 
than  to  be  seated  at  it  again  ;  and  now  he  gazed 
listless  at  the  manuscript  spread  before  him,  and 
his  former  pursuit  afforded  him  no  satisfaction. 
More  than  this,  a  fragrance  other  than  that  of 
the  holy  spices  mingled  with  the  smoke  of  the 
censer,  and  a  voice  not  the  reader's  ravished  his 
ear  in  the  very  midst  of  the  sacred  offices. 

Exactly  what  had  happened  while  the  fumes 


178  PASSE  ROSE. 

of  the  wine  were  upon  him  he  could  not  tell. 
A  confused  recollection  of  messages  given  and 
taken  ;  of  seeing  the  captain  with  the  demon  ; 
of  the  demon  itself,  which  nevertheless  had 
thrust  an  arm  of  honest  flesh  under  his  nose, 
and  had  entered  the  house  of  God  freely  with 
out  signs  of  terror ;  and  above  all,  of  a  face  and 
voice  sweeter  and  more  potent  than  even  the 
king's  wine,  was  all  he  could  recover  from  mem 
ory.  He  felt  conscious  of  having  committed 
some  grievous  error,  but  whether  it  consisted  in 
holding  converse  with  the  woman  or  the  demon, 
in  receiving  the  message  or  in  surrendering  it, 
he  could  not  determine.  On  his  homeward  way 
he  had  reflected  upon  what  he  should  say  to  the 
prior  when  he  rendered  an  account  of  his  jour 
ney,  and  after  much  misgiving  had  purposed  to 
tell  in  all  sincerity  how  a  woman  of  the  prin 
cesses'  household  had  given  him  letters  for  a 
certain  goldsmith  of  Maestricht,  but  had  taken 
them  again,  saying  she  would  dispatch  them  by 
another  messenger ;  also,  how  another,  whether 
woman  or  devil  he  knew  not,  had  bidden  him 
tell  the  prior  she  was  well.  Less  than  this  he 
dared  not  utter,  more  he  could  not.  But  when, 
after  relating  the  issue  of  his  mission  to  the 
king  and  the  queen's  reception  of  the  missal, 
the  prior  questioned  him  of  other  matters,  be 
tween  his  own  confusion  and  the  chill  of  the 


PASSE  ROSE.  179 

prior's  eye,  his  courage  failed  him,  and  he  held 
his  peace  altogether. 

Had  any  one  deemed  it  worthy  of  notice,  a 
change  as  great  as  that  which  had  befallen 
Brother  Dominic  might  also  have  been  observed 
in  Friedgis,  after  the  last  visit  of  Passe  Rose 
to  the  abbey.  Upon  the  apathy  and  dejection 
into  which  misfortune  had  plunged  him  she  had 
blazed  like  a  star.  Suspicious  as  he  had  been 
of  her  sincerity,  it  was  only  when  she  failed  to 
reappear  that  he  realized  what  credit  he  had 
attached  to  her  promises.  As  the  days  passed, 
his  suspicions  had  deepened.  But  a  hope  once 
kindled  is  hard  to  kill.  The  monotony  of  the 
abbey  life  jarred  with  this  hope  and  irritated 
his  expectancy.  As  he  lay  awake  at  night,  lis 
tening  for  the  song  of  the  cuckoo,  balancing 
the  girl's  promise  against  her  long  delay,  those 
mysterious  words  of  the  gospels,  "  in  kings' 
houses,"  came  to  him  with  all  the  assured  con 
viction  of  Passe  Rose's  utterance,  and  he  fol 
lowed  the  courses  of  awakened  hope  and  desire 
as  the  Northman's  bark  follows  the  rising  wind. 
Did  the  girl  indeed  speak  truly?  He  would 
verify  her  words  in  person.  Being  a  slave,  to 
flee  was  to  steal,  and  to  steal  was  to  lose,  for  the 
first  offense,  an  eye ;  for  the  second,  the  nose  ; 
for  the  third,  life.  Beyond  the  instant  when, 
outside  the  abbey  walls,  he  should  set  his  face 


180  PASSE  ROSE. 

in  the  direction  Passe  Rose  had  so  vaguely  indi 
cated  as  that  of  Aix,  he  had  no  plan.  But  to 
plan  was  not  his  nature ;  he  would  meet  what 
the  future  brought  as  the  bark's  prow  meets  the 
waves.  Surely  the  collar  was  an  omen  from 
the  gods,  —  the  gods,  always  forgotten  in  pros 
perity,  denied  in  misfortune,  and  remembered 
again  at  the  first  gleam  of  hope !  Of  a  truth 
the  gods  lived ;  for  on  the  very  eve  of  his  pro 
jected  flight  Brother  Dominic  came  to  his  cell, 
bidding  him  prepare  to  accompany  the  Prior 
Sergius  on  the  morrow  to  Aix  as  his  servant. 
Aye,  surely,  the  gods  lived  ! 

Upon  Brother  Dominic,  whom  the  prior  also 
took  with  him,  the  announcement  of  this  second 
journey  produced  a  strange  exhilaration.  Inas 
much  as  Sergius,  the  abbot  being  still  weak, 
went  to  represent  the  latter  on  the  occasion  of 
the  return  of  Pepin,  victor  in  the  campaign 
against  the  Avars,  it  was  natural  that  Brother 
Dominic  should  argue  that  he  was  certain  to 
share  with  the  prior  the  king's  hospitality,  —  a 
thought  well  calculated  to  excite  pride.  And  it 
was  thus  he  sought  to  explain  the  elation  which 
the  anticipations  of  this  journey  caused  him,  as 
he  rode  one  morning  of  the  harvest  month  from 
the  abbey  yard,  just  as  the  sun  rose  out  of  the 
wood  of  Hesbaye.  "  I  have  served  God  these 
many  years,"  thought  he,  drawing  himself  erect 


PASSE  ROSE.  181 

on  his  mule;  "the  saints  forbid  I  should  now 
serve  the  devil !  "  If  it  pleased  him  to  go  to 
Aix,  certainly  that  was  because  he  should  min 
gle  there  with  great  people  and  witness  a  great 
pageant.  Vassals  of  the  king  from  the  Marches 
of  Spain  to  the  land  of  the  Obodrites,  nobles 
from  Brittany  and  Carinthia,  prelates  of  the 
Church  and  dignitaries  of  the  State,  the  king 
himself,  his  young  queen  and  fair  daughters, 
women  of  the  royal  household,  —  when  Brother 
Dominic  reached  this  point  in  his  enumeration, 
the  beatings  of  his  heart  forced  him  to  grasp 
the  mule  tightly,  till  the  vision  had  passed. 
Surely  the  woman  was  right ;  he  had  the  prior's 
favor,  else  why  was  he  now  his  companion  ?  It 
was  strange  ;  who  had  told  her  ?  Yet  the  very 
sweetness  of  truth  was  in  her  voice,  and  her 
eyes —  Here  Brother  Dominic's  heart  was 
seized  with  such  new  tremors  that  the  Saxon 
Friedgis,  who  walked  behind  with  the  servants 
and  beasts  of  burden,  looked  to  see  him  lose  his 
hold  altogether. 

Mounted  upon  a  fiery  horse  whose  restive 
movements  he  controlled  without  seeming  to 
heed  them,  the  Prior  Sergius  rode  alone  in  ad 
vance  of  Brother  Dominic's  gray  mule.  At  a 
little  distance  he  might  have  been  mistaken  for 
somefidele  of  the  king,  on  his  way  to  the  Champ 
de  Mai  to  fulfill  the  service  of  the  ban ;  or,  if 


182  PASSE  ROSE. 

one  observed  his  Roman  dress,  prescribed  for 
the  clergy,  for  one  of  those  Frankish  prelates  in 
whose  veins  ran  the  blood  of  a  conquering  race, 
and  whose  instincts  of  enterprise  and  audacity 
often  led  them  to  exchange  the  solitude  and 
idleness  of  the  cloister  for  the  excitement  of  war 
or  the  adventuresome  life  of  missionary  con 
quest.  As  he  drew  near,  one  observed  a  cer 
tain  grace  and  elegance  of  carriage,  betraying 
his  Italian  descent,  and  announcing,  in  spite  of 
his  dress,  a  courtier  of  the  Eastern  Empire  rather 
than  a  prelate  of  the  West.  On  closer  inspec 
tion,  one  saw  the  pale  face  of  the  scholar,  pos 
sessing  the  magic  and  reserve  of  learning,  and 
forgot  in  its  dreamy  gaze  both  the  courtier  and 
the  warrior-priest. 

These  contradictions  in  the  external  appear 
ance  of  the  prior  were  paralleled  by  the  differ 
ences  of  opinion  in  which  he  was  held.  The 
monks  of  St.  Servais,  being  forbidden  to  speak 
ill  one  of  another,  would  have  testified  that  he 
was  fair  of  speech,  just  in  government,  and  nice 
in  the  discharge  of  his  duties  as  in  the  care  of 
his  person.  Yet  his  glance  begot  in  them  all 
an  uneasy  self-examination.  When  a  rule  was 
broken,  one  thought  of  the  prior  first,  of  God 
afterwards.  The  guests  at  the  monastery  table, 
on  the  other  hand,  won  by  his  manner  and  cheer, 
were  loud  in  his  praise  ;  except  it  were  some 


PASSE  ROSE. 


183 


surly  fellow  who,  while  the  rest  fed  on  the 
prior's  smile,  growled  in  his  beard  over  his 
cups,  "  Such  a  smile  never  fattened  man  nor 
The  children,  playing  in  the  court  as  the 
rode  out  on  the  road  to  Aix,  ceased  their 
at  his  approach.  For  them  he  was  so 
black  shadow,  chilling  their  laughter  as 
[assing  cloud  dulled  the  crimson  mist  of 
buds  on  the  hill  slope  beyond  the  ponds 
iring.  More  sensitive  than  their  elders, 
responded  more  quickly  to  the  iron  string 
vibrated  under  the  pleasantest  tones  of 
Hor's  voice. 

jpherd  of   the   abbey  had  once  found  a 
the  woods  at  a  she- wolf's  teats,  and  en- 
it  back  on  his  return  at  night.     None  had 
suffered  from  its  bite,  yet  all  who  saw  it, 
j  now  and  well  favored,  asleep  in  the  gate, 
ibered  that  it  had  wintered  with  the  wolf, 
[rior  constrained  the  same  deference, 
as   the  woman   of   Immaburg   had   said, 
Dominic  enjoyed  the  prior's   favor,  it 
Ivident  that  he  did  not  Dossess  his  confi- 


184  PASSE  ROSE. 

made  who  has  not  seen  it  break,  nor  loves  it  well 
who  does  not  greet  its  first  approach,  when 
flowers  are  bedewed  and  birds  sing.  For  what 
man,  if  he  delights  in  the  face  of  his  mistress, 
will  not  go  before  her  coming  to  see  her  coun 
tenance  when  joy  is  fresh  upon  it?  Brother 
Dominic  was  no  poet  to  feed  upon  dew  and  larks' 
songs,  and  it  was  not  long  before  the  cravings 
of  his  stomach,  stimulated  by  the  morning  air, 
carried  his  hand  to  his  wallet.  Yet  a  poet's 
thoughts,  unformed  and  unuttered,  stirred  in  his 
simple  soul. 

The  road  which  the  prior  had  taken,  traversing 
the  luxuriant  meadows  about  the  Meuse,  soon 
entered  the  narrowing  valley,  following  close  now 
to  the  river's  dancing  waters,  and  now  to  the 
oak-crowned  cliffs,  whose  bastions,  like  a  mighty 
fortress,  overtopped  the  deep  moat  of  the  stream. 
Alive  to  new  impressions,  his  lips  moving  softly 
to  a  bubbling  stream  of  pleasure,  Brother  Dom 
inic  saw  all  that  passed  before  his  eyes  :  the 
corn-flag  whence  the  blackbird  shook  the  dew 
in  his  sudden  flight ;  the  hamlets  hidden  among 
the  trees ;  the  villages  nestling  to  the  water ; 
the  barges  floating  by;  and  above,  the  bluffs 
of  towering  rock,  out  of  whose  heart  the  Roman 
stronghold  overhanging  the  valley  had  long  ago 
been  hewn,  and  whose  quarries  now  furnished 
the  material  for  the  royal  edifices  of  Aix. 


PASSE  ROSE.  185 

It  was  clear  that  in  taking  the  longer  road  to 
his  destination  the  prior  purposed  to  spend  the 
aight  at  Vise,  a  royal  bourg  where  the  king 
had  established  one  of  those  hospitable  houses 
which  afforded  free  shelter  and  security  to  trav 
elers,  and  which  were  designed  to  facilitate  com 
merce  and  intercourse  throughout  the  kingdom. 
Brother  Dominic  remembered  the  place  well,  for 
he  had  passed  this  way  on  his  return  from  Im- 
maburg ;  and  it  was  not  long  before  the  rude 
movements  of  his  mule  and  the  exhaustion  of  his 
wallet  combined  to  render  it  a  very  haven  of  rest 
and  fruition  to  his  quickened  imagination.  It 
was  with  no  little  satisfaction,  then,  that  he  saw 
at  last  its  outlying  farm-buildings,  and  detected, 
as  he  approached,  the  savory  odors  of  roasting 
flesh  and  steaming  stews. 

The  sound  of  a  horn  woke  the  valley  echoes 
as  they  entered  the  inclosure.  The  prior,  well 
known  at  Vise,  was  received  with  ceremony  ;  one 
hastening  to  take  his  horse  as  he  dismounted, 
another  running  to  fill  a  copper  bowl  with  water 
for  his  ablutions.  Brother  Dominic,  content  to 
mingle  with  the  throng  gathered  about  the  foun 
tain,  finished  his  toilet  quickly,  not  failing  to  ob 
serve,  meanwhile,  among  the  trees,  the  smoking 
dome  of  the  kitchen,  which,  like  an  immense 
beehive,  swarmed  with  servants  running  to  and 
fro,  and  gave  forth  sounds  and  scents  most 
agreeable  to  his  senses. 


186  PASSE  ROSE. 

"  Sir,"  said  a  voice,  suddenly,  at  his  side,  "  tell 
me  if,  by  the  grace  of  God  "  — 

Brother  Dominic  turned  to  see  who  it  was  thus 
plucking  him  by  the  sleeve,  but,  the  press  being 
great,  he  discovered  no  one,  and  passed  with  the 
rest  into  the  room  where  the  tables  were  spread. 
Scarcely,  however,  had  he  seated  himself  when 
he  felt  his  sleeve  pulled  again,  and  heard  a  plain 
tive  voice  in  his  ear :  — 

"  Tell  me,  in  the  name  of  the  good  God,  if 
by  his  grace  thou  hast  seen  anywhere  my  dear 
daughter  "  —  And  then  came  the  servants  bear 
ing  covered  dishes,  and  once  more  his  interlocutor 
disappeared  before  he  could  discover  who  it  was 
thus  addressing  him. 

After  the  repast  was  over,  accustomed  as  he 
was  to  the  hour  of  meditation  prescribed  by  the 
rules  of  the  monastery,  and  bewildered  by  the 
songs  and  tales  of  those  who  lingered  at  table, 
he  betook  himself  to  a  quiet,  sunny  seat  in  the 
open  air,  where,  finding  his  lids  growing  heavy, 
he  began  to  repeat  the  five  canticles  whose  first 
letters  form  the  name  of  the  Blessed  Mother ; 
and  while  thus  engaged  he  thought  himself  trans 
ported,  by  some  magical  power,  to  the  strangers' 
hall  at  Immaburg,  and  that  a  voice,  sweeter  than 
honey,  took  as  it  were  the  very  words  of  the  can 
ticle  out  of  his  mouth.  Housing  himself  with  an 
effort,  he  perceived  that  in  fact  a  woman  sat  be- 


PASSE  ROSE.  187 

side  him,  but  resembling  in  no  wise  the  woman 
of  the  princesses'  household.  Her  hand  shook, 
whether  from  age  or  palsy  he  could  not  tell ;  her 
voice,  sweet  though  feeble,  trembled ;  her  eyes, 
vacant  of  intelligence,  were  yet  restless  and  full 
of  lights. 

"  Sir,  I  beseech  thee  —  she  was  the  gift  of 
God.  Never  did  she  suck  these  breasts,  yet  was 
she  mine.  See,  this  was  her  girdle.  Sawest 
thou  ever  one  so  small  ?  I  keep  it  here,  warm, 
within  my  bosom.  Surely  thou  wouldst  know 
her  by  this  girdle.  Well,  then,  who  hath  taken 
her  from  me  ?  Listen.  I  have  a  house  in  Maes- 
tricht  —  In  Maestricht,  did  I  say  ?  Yes,  that 
was  right,  —  a  house  with  a  garden.  Loriots 
sing  there  every  morning,  but  she  sings  there  no 
longer.  Tell  me,  I  pray  thee,  why  the  loriots 
sing  there,  when  she  is  gone  ;  it  is  not  fitting." 
Troubled  by  her  incoherency,  Brother  Dominic 
made  a  motion  to  rise.  "  Nay,  I  beseech  thee, 
tell  me  first  where  she  is  ;  the  world  is  so  very 
large,  —  never  before  did  I  conceive  it  was  so 
large.  How  is  it  possible  I  should  find  her? 
Every  one  must  search.  Thou  wilt  know  her  by 
her  mouth,  —  a  little  mouth,  like  a  red  rose.  No 
one  has  so  sweet  a  mouth.  Ah,  my  God,  the 
rose-leaves  are  not  softer  nor  so  fragrant !  If 
one  followed  the  bees,  surely  one  would  discover 
her,"  —  her  face  brightened  ;  then,  relapsing 


188  FASSE  ROSE. 

into  her  monotone,  — "  but  they  fly  so  fast ! 
Who  can  follow  the  bees  ?  That  is  impossible." 

"Good  mother" — interposed  Brother  Dom 
inic. 

"  Aye,  good  mother,  —  that  is  what  she  used 
to  say,  —  good  little  mother.  I  remember  it 
well,  when  she  said  this,  standing  beside  me: 
her  breast  reached  to  my  shoulder,  —  she  was 
obliged  to  stoop  to  kiss  me.  Oh,  I  remember  it 
well !  I  have  a  long  memory,  for  it  is  a  long 
while.  Let  us  see  how  long  it  is.  My  husband 
began  on  that  day  a  silver  image  of  the  Virgin. 
It  is  said  that  the  king  has  forbidden  that  one 
should  prostrate  one's  self  before  an  image,  but 
to  make  an  image  of  silver,  delicately  carven, 
for  God's  altar,  that  is  quite  different  "  — 

"  Is  thy  husband,  then,  a  goldsmith?"  inter 
rupted  Brother  Dominic,  remembering  suddenly 
the  message  with  which  Passe  Rose  had  charged 
him. 

"Does  not  every  one  in  Maestricht  know 
Werdric  the  goldsmith  ? "  replied  the  woman. 
"  But  it  is  only  I  who  know  why  he  works  day 
and  night  on  the  Virgin's  image.  That  is  be 
cause  he  struck  the  gift  of  God.  Did  I  say  he 
struck  her?  It  seems  to  me  that  he  struck  her." 
She  passed  her  hands  over  her  eyes,  in  the  en 
deavor  to  recollect.  "  When  a  blow  is  given  the 
blood  runs  to  the  spot.  That  is  what  I  saw. 


PASSE  ROSE.  139 

Where  the  grass  is  trampled,  there  the  wild  boar 
has  passed.     Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"  Good  woman,"  said  Brother  Dominic,  "  me- 
thinks  thy  daughter  is  well.    When  I  was  at"  — 

"Oh,  she   is  well,  never   fear.     Every  night 
she  comes  to  my  bed.     Only  that  cursed  collar 
which  the  fay  gave  her  has  cast  a  spell  about 
her.     Hast  thou  heard  how  the  fay  lost  its  gir 
dle  ?     My  child  found  its  comb  by  a  pool  in  the 
wood  of  Hesbaye.     Who  would  not  pick  up  a 
comb  of  gold  ?     I  do  not  blame  her.     But  when 
she  laid  hold  of  it,  the  fay  gave  forth  such  sobs 
and  wailings  that  her  heart  was  touched,  —  her 
heart  is  so  tender!  "  Brother  Dominic  could  but 
be  interested  in  this  narration.    The  great  pagan 
gods  were  indeed  gone  forever,  but  a  host  of 
lesser  divinities,  like  the  skirmishers  of  a  retir 
ing  army,  still  lingered  in  the  sacred  places  and 
haunted  the  popular  imagination.    "  So  she  gave 
back  the  comb,  receiving  in  its  stead  a  collar  of 
gold,  — cursed   collar!     It   has   bewitched   my 
child"  — 

"  Wait  a  little,  my  good  mother,"  interposed 
the  monk.  «  Listen  a  moment.  When  I  was 
at  Immaburg,  at  the  king's  villa,  a  girl  like  the 
one  thou  tellest  of  bade  me  say  to  the  ffold- 

smith"  — 

"  Aye,  aye,  the  goldsmith,  —  that  is  my  hus 
band.  He  is  making  an  image  for  the  Virgin 


190  PASSE  ROSE. 

Mother  because  he  struck  a  virgin.  That  is  just. 
It  is  very  easy  to  appease  the  Blessed  Mother. 
Her  heart  is  like  the  good  God's.  She  will  for 
give.  But  my  child  will  not  forgive  so  easily. 
The  blow  cut  her  heart  in  twain." 

"  I  tell  thee  I  have  seen  thy  daughter !  "  cried 
Brother  Dominic ;  "  that  is  to  say,  I  have  no 
doubt  of  it.  When  I  was  at  Immaburg,  a  woman 
came  to  me  after  supper —  Wait  a  little, — there 
were  two.  One  gave  me  letters,  the  other  bade 
me  say  she  was  well.  Certainly  the  message 
must  have  been  for  thee.  One  of  the  two  I  saw 
not,  but  heard  her  voice  only.  Either  she  gave 
me  the  letters  for  the  prior,  which  is  clearly  im 
possible,  since  I  did  not  see  her ;  or  she  took  the 
letters  who  did  not  give  them,  which  is  contrary 
to  reason  ;  or  the  demon  —  God  defend  us  !  " 
said  the  monk,  scratching  his  head  in  perplexity, 
"  would  I  had  told  the  prior  the  whole  truth ! 
Only,  not  knowing  the  truth,  how  could  I  utter 
it  ?  "  And  pleased  at  the  sudden  discovery  of 
this  balm  to  his  troubled  conscience,  Brother 
Dominic  smiled  on  his  companion. 

His  words  had  made  no  impression  upon  her 
mind.  Even  the  announcement  that  he  had 
seen  her  daughter  passed  unnoticed,  and  as  he 
spoke  she  continued  muttering  to  herself  with 
that  incoherency  of  a  mind  hurried  on  by  the 
torrent  of  its  own  disordered  thoughts,  and  pow- 


PASSE  ROSE.  191 

erless  to  fix  its  attention  upon  even  the  objects 
of  its  desire.  But  her  senses,  reveling  like 
hounds  escaped  from  the  leash  while  the  master 
is  abroad,  were  alive  to  sights  and  sounds  beyond 
the  knowledge  of  others,  and  she  raised  her  head 
suddenly  at  the  rustle  of  leaves  in  the  thicket 
behind  her  to  see  the  prior  disappearing  softly  ; 
and,  leaving  the  monk  bewildered  by  his  strange 
interview  and  the  misgivings  which  it  had 
aroused,  she  plunged  into  the  bushes,  crying, 
"  Seigneur,  listen  in  the  name  of  Christ  "  — 

"  The  blessed  St.  Servais  preserve  us !  "  thought 
Brother  Dominic,  doubly  troubled  with  pity  for 
the  woman  and  concern  for  himself.  Eenoun- 
cing  at  last  the  effort  to  reconcile  the  contradic 
tions  of  memory,  he  entered  the  house  to  inquire 
of  the  king's  vidame  if  the  woman  were  indeed 
the  wife  of  the  goldsmith  of  Maestricht. 

"Aye,"  replied  the  vidame,  "her  husband 
cannot  restrain  her ;  "  and  tapping  his  forehead, 
"  God  hath  taken  her  wits  from  her.  They  say 
at  Maestricht  that  she  hath  housed  a  demon 
these  ten  years." 

Eemembering  his  experience  with  the  demon, 
Brother  Dominic  trembled.  Many  were  his 
prayers  and  brief  was  his  sleep  that  night  at 
Vise* ;  and  riding  behind  the  prior  on  his  mule 
the  next  morning,  it  seemed  to  him  that  Sergius 
read  his  thoughts  whenever  he  turned  to  speak 


192  PASSE  ROSE. 

with  him,  and  that  the  very  birds,  fluttering 
from  the  boughs  as  they  passed  underneath, 
laughed  aloud  at  his  trouble.  But  gradually 
the  morning  sun  cleared  his  brain  of  bodings,  as 
it  had  cleared  the  fog  from  the  valleys.  The 
wood  was  fresh  and  cool.  At  the  crossing  of 
the  Geule  he  saw  the  road  which  branched  to 
Immaburg.  Soon  the  ford  of  the  Wurm  was 
passed,  and  then  the  towers  of  Aix  rose  up  un 
expectedly  on  the  skirt  of  the  forest. 

At  the  city  gate  their  entrance  was  blocked 
by  a  passing  troop.  Sounds  of  laughter  and 
women's  voices  filled  the  echoing  archway,  and 
the  prior,  checking  his  horse  to  observe  the  riders 
as  they  went  by,  smiled  when  his  eye  fell  upon 
the  Saxon  Kothilde,  between  Gesualda  and 
Agnes  of  Solier.  Her  face  was  bright  and  her 
laughter  gay.  "  Robert  of  Tours  returns  with 
Pepin  from  Hungary,"  thought  the  prior.  Then, 
as  he  looked,  the  girl's  face  grew  white,  and  the 
smile  left  it.  "  So,"  thought  the  prior,  "  am  I 
then  come  amiss  ?  Nay,  little  one,  I  will  give 
thee  thy  lover  over  the  king's  will  —  and  body." 

Behind  the  others,  Friedgis,  on  foot,  and 
Brother  Dominic,  on  his  mule,  could  see  noth 
ing,  and  the  troop  was  soon  gone,  like  a  flight 
of  swallows.  Then  the  three  rode  in,  —  prior, 
monk,  and  slave,  —  little  dreaming  that  each 
was  thinking  of  the  same  woman. 

O 


PASSE  ROSE.  .  193 


XIV. 

It  had  been  a  day  of  delights  for  Brother 
Dominic.  He  had  sat  at  table  with  the  abbot  of 
Fontenelle,  director  of  the  royal  buildings,  with 
whom  the  Prior  Sergius  lodged  ;  and  though  his 
place  was  with  those  of  less  degree,  it  was  enough 
for  him  that  the  meats  were  well  seasoned  and 
garnished  with  flowers,  that  the  wine  in  his  gob 
let  was  interdicted  by  no  vow,  and  that  the  crys 
tal  jar  of  honey  stood  at  his  elbow.  Free  to 
come  and  go,  he  had  passed  the  morning  hours 
in  viewing  the  imperial  city,  whose  growing 
splendors  he  doubted  not  would  eclipse  those  of 
Home  itself.  He  had  wandered  at  will  through 
its  streets  and  squares,  stood  on  the  foundations 
of  the  vast  theatre  which  the  king  was  building 
beyond  the  northern  gate,  marveled  at  the  mighty 
columns  transported  so  great  a  distance  for  the 
new  basilica,  dipped  his  hands  in  the  springs 
whose  heat  proclaimed  the  reality  of  regions  in 
fernal,  and  braved  the  guards  at  the  palace  gate 
to  gaze  at  the  king's  abode.  But  more  than  all 
these  things,  at  the  evening  hour,  while  sitting, 
fatigued  with  wonder,  on  one  of  the  marble 
benches  of  the  palace  court,  he  had  seen  the 
woman  of  Immaburg.  Ah,  fool  that  he  was ! 
to  be  so  overcome  that  he  must  needs  stare,  with- 


194  PASSE  ROSE. 

out  the  wit  to  speak  or  move,  as  at  a  were-wolf 
issuing  from  a  cavern !  His  back  was  turned  to 
the  place  whence  she  came,  but  as  she  passed  a 
smell  of  sweet  ointment  carried  him  in  a  twin 
kling  to  the  strangers'  hall  at  Immaburg ;  and 
then  strength  fled  from  his  limbs,  so  that  when 
he  would  have  risen  the  damsel  was  already  far 
from  him.  Worst  of  all,  when  he  would  have 
followed  her,  —  for  what  purpose  God  knows,  — 
a  devil  of  a  soldier  at  the  gate  beset  him  with 
questions,  jesting  at  his  haste,  and  charging  him 
with  evil  intent,  so  that  for  very  shame  he  forced 
himself  to  go  another  way  than  that  the  woman 
had  taken. 

Rothilde  had  not  so  much  as  noticed  the 
monk.  Her  face  was  covered  as  she  crossed 
the  court,  though  it  was  late  twilight.  One 
would  have  sworn  her  to  be  only  some  servant 
of  the  palace,  —  as  indeed  the  soldier  had 
thought,  —  for  her  head-cloth  was  of  coarse  serge, 
and  her  shoe-nails  sounded  on  the  stones  as  she 
walked.  Paying  no  heed  to  any  she  met,  she 
went  her  way  by  the  street  which  skirted  the 
eastern  side  of  the  palace  to  the  church  of  St. 
Marcellus,  into  which  she  disappeared.  If  it 
was  dusk  without,  it  was  night  within,  and  she 
stood  inside  the  door  till  her  eyes  were  accus 
tomed  to  the  darkness  ;  then,  following  the  wall, 
entered  one  of  the  side  chapels,  where  the  ob- 


PASSE  ROSE.  195 

scurity  was  almost  complete.  Against  the  pier 
hung  a  small  votive  casket,  inclosing  a  sweet 
gum,  from  which  the  smoke  curled  upward  in 
spirals.  In  the  centre  of  the  chapel  was  a  sar 
cophagus  of  Parian  marble,  executed  in  Italy 
for  the  king.  Upon  this  the  girl  seated  herself, 
gathering  one  foot  beneath  her,  and  waited.  A 
verger  came  down  the  nave,  and  lighted  four 
candles  before  an  altar  in  the  opposite  aisle. 
The  taper  in  his  hand  hovered  a  moment  about 
the  candles,  was  effaced  by  a  pillar,  reappeared 
again,  then  vanished  altogether.  Silent  and  im 
mobile,  the  girl  watched  the  retreating  light. 
It  was  evident  that  she  did  not  wish  to  be  ob 
served,  yet  in  her  attitude  there  was  an  insolent 
unconcern.  Her  hood  had  fallen  from  her  hair, 
where  the  black  pearls  of  Robert  of  Tours  shone 
with  a  dull  lustre  in  the  candle-light  reflected 
from  the  pavement. 

Yesterday,  at  the  Liege  gate,  she  had  seen 
Friedgis,  her  Saxon  lover.  Till  the  dancing- 
girl  spoke  his  name  in  the  supper-room  at  Imma- 
burg,  she  had  forgotten  him.  Yet  she  had  loved 
him  —  once.  He  stood  with  the  asses  behind 
the  monk  to  whom  she  had  given  the  papers  for 
the  prior.  Had  he  seen  her?  How  her  heart 
had  leaped !  "  What  ails  thee  ?  "  Gesualda  had 
said,  observing  her  pallor.  Certainly  it  was  her 
collar  the  dancing-girl  wore  at  Immaburg.  At 


196  PASSE  ROSE. 

the  sight  of  it  the  past  had  come  back  like  the 
memory  of  a  dream,  —  her  Saxon  home  and 
lover.  She  changed  her  posture  mechanically, 
shrugging  her  shoulders  with  a  movement  of  dis 
dain.  How  was  it  possible  she  had  ever  loved 
him  ?  Her  eyes  followed  the  smoke  ascending 
from  the  casket  along  the  rough  surface  of  the 
wall  to  the  carven  capital,  where,  curling  out 
ward,  it  crept  along  the  curve  of  the  arch  to  the 
keystone.  Did  he  know  where  she  was  ?  Had 
he  come  seeking  her?  She  remembered  the 
look  the  dancing-girl,  had  given  her  when  utter 
ing  his  name.  Did  she  perchance  come  from 
him?  The  smoke,  escaping  from  under  the 
arch  of  the  chapel,  floated  higher  into  the  vault 
ings  of  the  aisle.  "  Come  up  hither,"  it  seemed 
to  say,  "above  the  pavement  where  the  multi 
tude  kneel,  into  the  tribune  of  the  king." 
Kothilde  leaned  forward  to  watch  its  ascending 
spiral.  She  had  sought  the  dancing-girl  after 
supper,  and  from  the  gallery  had  seen  her  con 
versing  with  the  monk  at  the  door  of  the  chapel. 
But  when  she  descended  to  speak  with  her,  she 
found  no  one,  and  seeing  the  captain  approach 
ing  had  retreated  hastily.  "Friedgis,  the  Saxon 
slave  who  keeps  the  gate  for  the  monks  of  St. 
Servais,"  —  that  was  what  the  girl  had  said.  A 
slave,  leading  the  asses !  how  could  it  be  that 
she  had  ever  loved  him  !  —  and  her  blue  eyes 


PASSE  ROSE.  197 

followed  the  smoke-wreaths,  stealing  ever  up 
ward  softly,  as  if  fearful  of  hindrance  or  sur 
prise,  into  the  great  dome. 

A  sound  caused  her  to  turn  her  head  and 
draw  her  cloak  about  her.  In  the  shadow  of 
the  pillar  near  the  font  something  moved. 
Slipping  from  her  seat,  she  removed  her  shoes, 
and  gliding  obliquely  in  her  noiseless  sandals 
towards  the  black  figure  beside  the  font,  paused, 
as  if  to  dip  her  finger  in  the  holy  water  ;  then, 
with  a  quick  motion,  threw  back  her  head-cloth 
and  revealed  her  face. 

"  Enough,"  said  the  prior  softly  ;  "  cover  thy 
self."  Without  doubt  he  remembered  the  monk 
Fardolphus,  who,  secreted  beneath  one  of  the 
altars,  had  overheard  the  conspirators  of  Pepin 
the  Bastard,  and  had  hastened  to  tell  the  king. 
With  a  gesture  the  girl  led  the  way  into  the  re 
cess  of  the  chapel,  where  she  seated  herself  again 
on  the  lid  of  the  sarcophagus.  The  distant  can 
dles  shone  on  her  face,  still  uncovered  ;  the  fillet 
of  pearls  gleamed  in  her  hair ;  her  teeth  glis 
tened  between  her  parted  lips.  "  Cover  thy 
self,"  repeated  the  prior  authoritatively.  She 
obeyed  but  in  part,  and  reluctantly.  It  seemed 
to  give  her  pleasure  to  reveal  a  little  of  the 
beauty  concealed  behind  the  coarseness  of  her 
garment.  Standing  between  her  and  the  light, 
the  prior  looked  at  her  attentively,  struck  anew 


198  PASSE  ROSE. 

by  this  beauty  which  the  Abbot  Eainal  had 
thought  to  consecrate  to  the  service  of  God. 
Keener  in  his  perceptions  than  the  abbot,  the 
prior  had  seen  in  this  convert,  destined  for  the 
Saxon  mission,  a  tool  of  another  temper,  fitted 
for  other  ends.  More  learned,  too,  than  his  su 
perior,  the  prior  was  acquainted  with  the  writ 
ings  of  certain  Greek  authors,  who  maintained 
that  moral  character  may  be  discovered  in  the 
expression  of  the  face,  even  in  the  forms  of  the 
members  ;  that  the  shape  of  the  extremities  in 
dicates  the  fineness  or  coarseness  of  the  intelli 
gence  ;  and  that  in  the  movements  of  the  body 
are  revealed  those  of  the  soul.  Looking  about 
among  the  king's  household  for  an  accomplice, 
when  his  eye  fell  upon  Rothilde,  it  had  rested  on 
her  face  with  satisfaction.  In  truth,  the  Greek 
was  right.  Does  the  habitual  state  of  the  soul 
leave  no  trace  upon  its  dwelling  ?  See  how  she 
has  decked  her  body.  Is  not  that  eye  which  de 
lights  in  the  things  of  sense  the  eye  also  of  the 
soul  ?  Those  fingers,  so  frail,  yet  so  full  of  ner 
vous  energy,  are  fingers  to  clutch  at  a  crown. 
That  mouth,  so  small,  what  passions  tremble  on 
its  fine  lines,  what  desire  sleeps  in  the  hollow  of 
its  lips  !  "  It  is  she  I  seek,"  the  prior  had  said, 
looking  into  her  eye.  It  was  a  blue  eye,  trust 
ful,  but  not  trusty  ;  in  repose  clear  as  a  shallow 
pool  in  an  open  field,  —  then  filling  with  sudden 


PASSE  ROSE. 

lights  ;  one  saw  there  what  one  would,  —  stars 
or  flames.  When  he  first  saw  her,  she  wore,  as 
now,  the  black  pearls  of  Robert  of  Tours,  to 
whom  the  king  had  refused  her  in  marriage. 
Should  he  win  her  to  his  purpose  by  playing  on 
her  love  of  kindred  and  home,  fill  her  soul  with 
the  desire  of  vengeance  ?  "  Nay,"  said  the  prior 
to  himself,  observing  her  more  closely  :  "  to  such 
an  one  a  nation  is  less  than  a  man ;  she  will  do 
greater  things  for  her  lover  than  for  her  coun 
try."  On  inquiry,  he  learned  that  Robert  of 
Tours  had  won  the  young  queen  to  his  suit. 
The  king,  however,  remained  obstinate,  and  to 
rid  himself  of  further  importunity  sent  the  girl 
to  the  convent  of  Eicka,  to  take  the  veil.  So 
chance  threw  her  into  the  prior's  hands ;  for  the 
convent  of  Eicka  belonged  by  royal  diploma  to 
the  abbot's  domain,  and  during  the  latter's  sick 
ness  its  oversight,  both  as  to  internal  order  and 
external  affairs,  fell  to  the  prior's  charge.  Hav 
ing  thus  become  director  of  the  girl's  conscience, 
he  had  opportunity  to  study  her  character,  and, 
by  mitigation  of  the  rules  in  her  favor,  to  estab 
lish  himself  in  her  confidence.  He  knew  how  to 
render  worldly  pleasures  attractive  in  condemn 
ing  them,  and  to  deepen  the  sullen  rage  of  her 
disappointed  ambition  by  dwelling  upon  the  ir- 
revocableness  of  her  lot.  To  strip  her  arms  of 
their  jewels  and  her  dress  of  its  silver  fringes,  to 


200  PASSE  HOSE. 

break  her  garnet  girdle  and  lay  it  on  the  altar, 
to  give  herself  over  to  the  austerities  of  fasts, 
vigils,  and  macerations,  to  abandon  her  passion 
ate  love  for  the  mystical  substitute  offered  her, 
—  all  this  the  prior  knew  how  to  paint  in  words 
fit  to  quicken  her  terror  and  disgust  for  the 
tomb  to  which  she  saw  herself  destined  in  the 
very  plenitude  of  life  and  ambition.  Mean 
while,  he  had  obtained,  through  the  young 
queen's  intercession,  the  king's  permission  for 
her  return  to  court,  on  condition  that  she  re 
nounced  all  hopes  of  marriage. 

On  the  eve  of  her  consecration  Sergius  en 
tered  her  room.  Sleepless  with  rage  and  fear, 
she  saw  him  leaning  above  her  bed,  shading  his 
face  from  the  taper  in  his  hand. 

"  What  wilt  thou  of  me  ?  "  she  stammered, 
pressed  against  the  wall. 

"  To  leave  this  grave,  and  take  thy  place  in 
the  queen's  household." 

She  raised  herself  on  her  elbow,  still  gazing 
at  him  fiercely  from  her  blue  eyes. 

"  Kise  and  dress  thyself.  The  horses  are  at 
the  gate." 

"  The  king  relents  ?  "  she  said,  dazed. 

The  prior  smiled. 

"  What  wilt  thou  of  me  ?  "  she  asked  again, 
sitting  up  in  bed,  and  searching  his  face. 

"  Obedience." 


PASSE  ROSE.  201 

"  And  afterwards  ?  " 

"  Obedience." 

"  Afterwards  ?  "  she  insisted. 

"  On  the  night  I  bid  thee,  to  open  the  door 
of  the  king's  apartment,  and  lead  him  thou  find- 
est  without  to  the  king's  bed.  Afterwards," 
said  the  prior  softly,  "  I  will  give  thee  to  Robert 
of  Tours  in  marriage." 

That  night  Rothilde  set  out  for  the  court, 
wearing  her  girdle  and  pearls. 

Not  a  little  vain  of  his  perspicacity  in  having 
divined  what  lay  beneath  the  innocent  expres 
sion  of  her  blue  eyes,  the  prior  had  often  smiled 
at  the  abbot's  naive  projects  for  Rothilde ;  but 
after  her  return  among  the  queen's  women,  he 
had  often  also  experienced  a  nervous  apprehen 
sion  of  what  he  had  discovered.  Having,  as  it 
were,  been  unmasked  by  his  penetrating  eye,  the 
girl  made  no  further  effort  at  concealment  from 
him,  seeming  rather  to  take  an  insolent  satisfac 
tion  in  revealing  more  than  he  had  perceived. 
On  several  occasions,  trembling  for  her  discre 
tion,  he  had  been  on  the  point  of  saying,  "  Cover 
thyself !  "  as  just  now,  when  she  threw  off  her 
disguise  in  the  church  of  St.  Marcellus,  despite 
the  candle-light  shining  in  her  face.  Moreover, 
if  in  discovering  the  weakness  of  another  one 
acquires  a  sense  of  superiority,  in  profiting  by  it 
one  falls  into  bondage  ;  and  Rothilde,  sitting  on 


202  PASSE  ROSE. 

the  lid  of  marble,  was  more  at  ease  than  the 
prior,  walking  irresolutely  to  and  fro  between 
the  chapel  walls,  as  if  dreading  to  make  use  of 
the  instrument  which  he  had  chosen. 

"  The  king  is  still  obdurate,"  he  said  at  length, 
pausing  before  her,  and  approaching  the  subject 
in  hand  indirectly. 

"  Thou  art  not  come  to  tell  me  that !  "  replied 
the  girl,  returning  his  gaze. 

"  Nay,"  he  said  quickly,  "  but  to  remind  thee 
of  thy  promise  "  — 

"  I  remember,"  she  interrupted.  "  Is  the 
time  come  ?  " 

"  Within  a  month's  time  I  will  wed  thee  in 
this  very  place  with  Robert  of  Tours  —  if  thou 
darest." 

"  Why  ask  ?  "  she  replied  dryly,  leaning  for 
ward  and  resting  her  chin  in  her  hand. 

"  I  have  here  the  abbot's  ring,"  continued  the 
prior,  drawing  it  from  his  pouch ;  "  with  this 
ring  one  may  enter  the  palace  at  all  hours,  even 
to  the  king's  chamber.  Only,  to  reach  the  king's 
chamber,  one  must  know  the  way  "  — 

"Especially  when  it  is  night,"  interposed 
Rothilde. 

"It  is  for  thee  to  show  the  way.  Thou  wilt 
wait  at  the  stair  by  the  door  of  the  audience 
hall."  The  prior  spoke  rapidly,  and  the  girl 
listened  intently.  "  He  who  wears  this  ring  "  — 


PASSE  ROSE.  203 

"  Who  ?  "  she  interrupted  again. 

Sergius  made  a  gesture  of  impatience  —  "  will 
come  after  matins,  at  the  eighth  hour  of  night. 
He  will  show  thee  the  ring,  and  will  follow 
thee." 

"I  will  be  there."  She  reached  forth  her 
hand.  "  Give  me  the  ring,  that  I  may  know  it 
when  I  see  it  again.  Is  the  night  fixed  ?  "  she 
asked,  examining  the  ring  attentively. 

"  Not  yet.    He  who  "  —    The  prior  hesitated. 

The  girl  looked  up.  "  Strikes,"  she  said,  ob 
serving  his  repugnance. 

—  "  is  not  yet  come." 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"A  Greek  from  Pavia.  His  arm  is  sure. 
When  —  when  it  is  over  "  —  He  paused,  feeling 
his  way  softly,  and  seeking  fitting  words. 

"Well?"  said  the  girl. 

He  laid  his  hand  on  her  arm,  and,  grasping 
her  robe,  drew  her  palm  from  her  chin.  "  Such 
a  secret  is  for  two  only,  —  thee  and  me."  She 
seemed  not  to  comprehend,  but  her  eyes  dilated. 
"  This  man  cannot  live.  If  he  escapes,  gold 
will  buy  his  tongue  as  it  hath  bought  his  hand  ; 
if  he  is  taken,  if  there  should  be  an  outcry,  tor 
ture  will  loosen  it.  Escape  he  must  not,  and  if 
taken  —  dead  —  the  dead  keep  their  secrets,  and 
ours." 

For  a  moment  neither  spoke  nor  moved. 


204  PASSE  HOSE. 

"  Yes,"  murmured  the  girl  absently,  "  that 
were  better."  She  sat  motionless,  like  a  figure 
sculptured  on  the  lid  of  the  sarcophagus. 

The  prior  drew  a  poniard  from  his  cloak,  and 
laid  it  softly  beside  her.  Her  eyes,  half  closed, 
looked  beyond  him,  and  he  could  see  her  bosom 
rise  and  fall  under  the  cendal. 

"  He  —  the  Greek  —  is  not  yet  come  ?  "  she 
said  almost  inaudibly. 

"Not  yet.  He  who  came  with  him  is  here. 
They  parted  company  for  greater  surety."  He 
was  going  to  say  more,  but  saw  she  was  no 
longer  listening  to  him.  Her  eyes  were  fixed 
on  the  blade  lying  beside  her.  The  head-cloth 
had  fallen  again  upon  her  shoulders,  but  the 
prior  paid  no  heed  to  it.  He  seemed  fearful  of 
disturbing  her,  watching  her  as  a  fox  watches  a 
pheasant  approaching. 

"  I  would  see  him,  the  Greek,  first,"  she  said 
at  length,  lifting  her  eyes. 

"  It  shall  be  as  thou  wilt,  when  he  comes," 
he  replied  eagerly,  unable  to  repress  his  joy. 

"  And  if  he  fails  ?  " 

"  He  will  not  fail." 

As  he  spoke,  footsteps  echoed  in  the  vaultings. 
The  girl  snatched  the  blade  from  the  stone,  and 
drew  the  cloth  over  her  face. 

"  Dost  thou  know  the  tower  by  the  ford  of 
the  Wurm,  on  the  road  to  Immaburg  ?  —  to  the 


PASSE  ROSE.  205 

east,  beside  the  river,  a  hundred  paces.  Bring 
thy  Greek  thither  at  night,  the  third  day.  Here 
—  the  ring  —  quick  "  —  and  slipping  from  her 
seat,  the  girl  glided  from  the  chapel,  and  disap 
peared  in  the  darkness. 

In  the  street  she  threw  back  her  hood,  and 
filled  her  lungs  with  the  cool  night  air.  Ab 
sorbed  by  her  thoughts,  she  was  not  conscious  of 
the  dagger  in  her  hand  till  she  emerged  into  the 
open  space  before  the  baths,  where  a  torch  flared 
in  the  wind.  Secreting  the  weapon  in  her 
cloak,  and  covering  her  face  quickly,  she  crossed 
to  the  opposite  side,  to  avoid  those  going  in  and 
out,  and  in  her  agitation  stumbled  against  a 
passer-by.  She  recoiled,  holding  herself  flat 
against  the  wall,  —  it  was  Friedgis !  Dieu ! 
how  coarse  he  was  !  She  followed  him  at  a  lit 
tle  distance,  cautiously.  He  walked  carelessly, 
looking  from  side  to  side,  the  cord  of  his  tunic 
swinging  against  his  bare  legs.  Notwithstand 
ing  her  emotions,  the  girl  laughed,  it  was  so 
droll.  What  would  he  do  if  he  knew  ?  At  the 
gate  of  the  palace  he  stopped,  scrutinizing  its 
massive  walls,  and  moving  from  place  to  place, 
like  a  spy  observing  the  camp  of  an  enemy. 
The  girl's  heart  beat  heavily.  Did  he  know? 
At  last  he  went  slowly  away.  She  could  see  him 
looking  back  from  time  to  time,  till  his  form 
grew  indistinct  in  the  darkness.  As  if  possessed 


206  PASSE  ROSE. 

by  a  sudden  idea,  she  took  a  few  quick  steps  after 
him ;  then  paused  a  moment,  undecided,  and 
finally  turning  back  entered  the  gate.  Within  the 
court  the  lights  shone  on  the  pavement,  and  she 
followed  the  encircling  gallery  in  the  shadow  of 
the  pillars.  At  the  stairs  in  the  angle,  some  one 
sitting  on  the  lower  step  rose  at  her  approach,  and 
between  the  folds  of  her  head-cloth  she  recognized 
the  monk  of  Immaburg.  Unable  to  resist  the 
promptings  of  his  imagination,  Brother  Dom 
inic  had  lingered  the  entire  evening  in  the  vicin 
ity  of  the  palace.  Now  that  the  vague  hope  he 
cherished  was  so  unexpectedly  realized,  timidity 
paralyzed  him,  and,  ill  at  ease  under  the  glance 
of  those  eyes  which  fascinated  him,  he  would 
have  fled,  had  not  the  girl  laid  hold  of  his 
sleeve. 

"  Art  thou  not  he  to  whom  I  gave  the  papers 
at  Immaburg?"  she  asked,  peering  into  his 
face. 

"  Aye,"  replied  Brother  Dominic,  trembling. 

"  I  saw  thee  yesterday  at  the  gate  with  the 
prior  of  St.  Servais;  "  and  in  spite  of  his  trouble, 
this  mark  of  interest  was  not  without  its  effect. 
Seeing  his  tremor,  Rothilde  smiled  assuring! y, 
as  one  encourages  a  child.  "  There  was  another 
with  thee,  —  he  who  held  the  asses." 

"  Aye,  the  porter." 

"Stand  not  here;  the  night  is  cold,"  said  the 


PASSE  ROSE.  207 

girl,  pulling  him  by  the  robe  along  the  gallery. 
Brother  Dominic's  courage  began  to  return  in 
the  obscurity. 

"  What  porter  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Of  the  abbey  ;  a  Saxon  serf  whom  the  king 
gave  the  abbot." 

"  The  good  abbot !  It  was  he  who  baptized 
me  in  the  wood  at  Ehresberg."  They  were  pass 
ing  under  the  gallery  towards  the  gate.  "  Does 
he  lodge  with  thee,  this  porter  ?  " 

"At  the  abbot  of  Fontenelle's,"  replied 
Brother  Dominic  proudly. 

"  This  way,"  said  the  girl,  drawing  him  after 
her.  He  felt  her  hand  in  his,  warm  as  the 
spring  waters  in  the  king's  baths,  but  it  sug 
gested  to  the  poor  monk  no  place  of  torment. 
"  Thou  gavest  the  papers  to  the  prior  ?  "  Brother 
Dominic  trembled  again.  "  He  has  much  faith 
in  thee,  therefore  I  trust  thee."  Her  hand 
pressed  his,  and  Brother  Dominic  passed  from 
apprehension  to  ecstasy.  "  Hast  thou  lodgings 
of  thine  own  at  the  abbot's  ?  " 

"  Aye,  a  goodly  chamber  in  the  court,  with  a 
Damascus  carpet." 

The  girl  could  but  laugh.  "  Truly,  a  Damas 
cus  carpet ! " 

The  laugh  smote  his  heart  like  the  ripple  of 
soft  fingers  on  a  lute's  strings. 

"  Aye,  I  will  show  it  thee,"  he  stammered, 
amazed  at  his  own  daring. 


208  PASSE  ROSE. 

"  What  said  the  dancing-girl  to  thee  at  Imma- 
burg?  "  asked  Rothilde  abruptly. 

But  Brother  Dominic  could  articulate  nothing. 
As  to  many  others,  so  it  happened  to  him  that, 
having  often  thought  to  see  demons,  now  that 
one  assailed  him  he  did  not  recognize  it.  At 
the  archway  of  the  court  where  he  lodged  he 
paused.  He  heard  behind  him  the  girl's  breath 
ing,  and,  observing  no  one,  entered  softly,  hug 
ging  the  wall's  shadow,  suddenly  full  of  re 
sources. 

Before  the  narrow  door  of  his  room  he  hesi 
tated,  terrified  at  what  he  was  doing.  The  girl 
pushed  him  aside,  and  entered. 

A  taper  burned  on  the  table.  Uncovering 
her  face,  she  glanced  rapidly  about  her.  Brother 
Dominic  stood  in  the  door.  "  Listen,"  she  said, 
approaching  him  and  pulling  him  within.  "  I 
would  see  this  Saxon.  Bring  him  here  to  me, 
and  leave  us  a  little  space."  Brother  Dominic, 
a  moment  before  ready  to  abandon  this  ad 
venture,  perceiving  now  that  it  was  to  see  an 
other  she  had  come,  stood  stubbornly  his  ground. 
She  laid  her  hand  on  his  sleeve  and  smiled  reas 
suringly.  "Then  come  again."  For  such  a 
smile  the  monk  would  certainly  have  gone  to 
fetch  Cerberus  from  the  Acheron.  "  Hasten," 
she  said,  pushing  him  gently. 

When  he  had  gone,  the  girl  threw  off   her 


PASSE  HOSE,  209 

hood,  removed  her  shoes,  and  surveyed  herself 
eagerly.  Her  under-skirt  was  short,  closely  fitted, 
and  its  points  .were  tied  with  silver  cords.  Her 
neck  was  visible  under  a  veil  of  tissue,  fastened 
behind  to  her  hair.  Between  the  draperies  of 
her  outer  tunic  shone  her  girdle,  set  with  garnets, 
and  the  silver  lacings  of  her  sandals,  binding 
the  stamped  leather  above  her  ankles.  Satisfied 
with  the  result  of  her  inspection,  she  stood  wait 
ing,  her  back  against  the  door.  Presently  the 
door  was  pushed  open,  and  Friedgis  entered. 
As  he  crossed  the  sill,  the  girl,  leaning  against 
the  door,  closed  it  deftly  and  slid  forward  the 
bolt.  Friedgis  had  at  first  seen  no  one ;  then 
he  uttered  a  suppressed  cry  of  joy  and  surprise, 
and  caught  her  in  his  arms. 


XV. 

Is  there  any  one  who,  in  years  of  ripeness, 
does  not  look  back  with  wonder  upon  the  things 
which  charmed  his  childish  fancy?  And  if, 
perchance,  for  any  reason,  he  must  needs  feign 
an  outgrown  pleasure,  what  more  vapid  and 
wearisome  than  a  former  delight  outlived  and 
dispossessed  of  power  ?  The  shining  flint  con 
tents  no  longer  the  eye  which  has  seen  the  dia 
mond's  lustre  ;  the  softest  fleece  chafes  the  limbs 


210  PASSE  ROSE. 

that  have  felt  the  touch  of  spun-silk  raiment ; 
and  the  heart  that  has  fed  in  a  king's  palace 
from  the  golden  dishes  of  vanity  and  ambition, 
what  palate  hath  it  for  things  which  once  satis 
fied  its  unwhetted  appetite  ?  Far  away,  indeed, 
for  Eothilde,  were  the  wooden  huts  and  sheep 
pastures  of  Bardengau.  In  Friedgis'  clasp,  so 
strong  with  sudden,  unfeigned  joy,  a  thrill  of 
revolt  ran  through  her,  as  her  body  had  shrunk 
from  the  touch  of  her  serge  garment.  Yet  she 
let  him  have  his  way,  and  clung  to  his  neck,  her 
head  upon  his  breast,  her  blue  eyes  smiling  un 
der  the  pearl  chaplet.  It  was  a  long  journey 
from  the  camp  at  Ehresberg  to  this  chamber  at 
Aix,  and  she  must  needs  go  over  it  all  with  her 
lover,  recounting,  between  his  kisses,  what  had 
befallen  her.  There  were  questions  to  ask 
and  to  answer,  a  story  to  tell  and  to  hear,  and, 
after  the  first  thirst  of  his  heart  was  slaked, 
questions  hard  to  parry  ;  and  while  he  gave  her 
lips  scarce  time  to  speak,  fearing  to  utter  a 
sound,  lest  joy,  like  a  frail  vase,  should  break 
at  a  murmur,  she  smiled  through  her  half-shut 
eyes  and  held  her  shrinking  body  still,  with  no 
thought  but  of  Robert  of  Tours,  no  anxiety  but 
to  know  how  long  a  time  the  poor  fool  of  a 
monk  without  would  give  her  to  accomplish  her 
purpose. 

"  How   knewest  thou  I  was  here  ?  "  he  whis 
pered. 


PASSE  ROSE.  211 

"  I  saw  thee  with  the  monk  at  the  gate." 

"  And  thou  earnest  at  once  ? "  He  stooped 
and  kissed  her.  "  I  knew  thou  wert  here. 
There  came  a  girl  to  the  abbey  wearing  thy 
collar.  It  was  she  who  bade  me  seek  in  the 
king's  house." 

"The  captain's  dancing  -  girl,"  thought  Ro- 
thilde  ;  then  aloud,  "  It  was  to  seek  me  thou 
earnest  ?  " 

"  Aye,  indeed.  But  for  this  journey  of  the 
prior's  I  had  come  alone.  The  girl  spoke  like 
a  seer."  Then  he  bent  to  her  lips  again.  What 
mattered  these  things  ?  Why  waste  time  in 
speech  ?  Silence  and  kisses  were  better. 

The  minutes  slipped  away,  he  not  heeding 
them,  she  counting  them.  At  last,  sighing,  she 
unclasped  his  arms  and  stood  up.  "  I  must  be 
gone  ;  it  is  time,"  she  said. 

"  Go  ?  "  he  stammered,  bewildered.  "  Whith 
er?" 

She  touched  her  lips  to  his  forehead.  He  saw 
now  for  the  first  time  her  silver-corded  dress, 
the  girdle  and  pearls,  and  a  shadow  of  jealous 
fear  crossed  his  face. 

She  saw  it,  and  smiled  sadly.  "  Why  am  I 
here  ?  "  she  said  reproachfully. 

"  Because  thou  lovest  me,"  he  replied,  spring 
ing  to  her  side. 

"And  thou?" 


212  PASSE  ROSE. 

"  Thou  knowest  I  would  die  for  thee." 
She  freed  herself  gently  from  his  clasp.  Why 
did  she  look  at  him  so  pitifully?  What  was  she 
going  to  say  to  him  ?  She  made  an  effort  to 
speak,  smiled  helplessly,  and  turned  away,  her 
eyes  bright  with  tears.  A  terrible  fear  began 
to  oppress  him.  Suddenly  she  turned  again, 
standing  before  him.  Her  eyes  shone  dry  as 
fire ;  her  very  body,  rigid  with  purpose,  seemed 
changed.  "  Whither  do  I  go  ?  "  she  said,  in  a 
hard  voice.  "  Whither,  indeed,  but  to  the  king's 
palace !  The  girl  spoke  truly.  See,"  —  she 
loosed  the  pearls  from  her  hair,  —  "  here  are  the 
proofs.  Where  will  a  maid  find  such  but  in  a 
king's  palace?"  Friedgis  stared  at  her  in  si 
lence.  "For  what  end  should  a  king  take  a 
captive  from  the  dust  of  the  road  to  put  sandals 
on  her  feet  and  deck  her  hair  with  pearls  ? " 
She  watched  the  poison  work  in  his  veins.  "  He 
hath  slain  her  kindred  and  laid  her  roof  in  ashes. 
One  thing  yet  remains  undone,  —  to  waste  her 
heart  with  fire  as  he  hath  wasted  her  land. 
Hush !  The  monk  is  at  the  door."  Friedgis 
was  advancing  towards  her.  She  put  out  her 
hand  to  stay  him,  gathering  her  cloak  from  the 
floor,  where  it  had  fallen  when  she  entered,  and 
drawing  it  about  her. 

"  Thou  shalt  not  go,"  he  said  hoarsely,  seizing 
her  arm. 


, '"    . 


PASSE  ROSE.  213 

Her  eyes  softened  with  pity.  "  Art  thou  able 
to  contend  with  a  king  ?  " 

He  still  held  her  arm.     In  her  fingers  were 

O 

the  pearls  of  Robert  of  Tours.  "  Give  me  the 
gems;"  and  taking  them  from  her  hand,  he 
ground  them  under  foot.  "  Thou  goest  back 
willingly  to  thy  king  ?  " 

"  And  if  I  go,"  —  she  loosed  her  dress,  and 
drew  forth  the  prior's  poniard,  — "  what  dost 
thou  fear?  Tell  me,  when  thou  strikest,  when 
the  foe's  arms  are  locked  about  thy  neck  and 
thine  eyes  swim  with  mist,  when  time  presses, 
where  dost  thou  push  the  blade  home  ?  Is  it 
not  here  ?  "  She  laid  her  hand  on  his  breast. 
"  Fear  nothing.  I  am  strong  —  and  I  am  thine." 

"  Give  me  the  blade,"  he  demanded.  "  When 
the  eyes  are  thick  with  mist  it  is  too  late.  I  am 
stronger  than  thou." 

She  trembled  now,  recoiling  •  before  him. 
"  Thou  —  the  king  "  —  she  murmured,  retreating 
as  he  advanced.  "  Nay,  not  thou  "  — 

"  Give  it  me,"  he  repeated  sullenly. 

"  Nay,  nay,"  she  pleaded.  "  They  will  slay 
thee.  Let  me  go.  Thou  art  mad  —  they  will 
slay  thee  —  it  is  not  possible."  Her  back  was 
against  the  wall,  his  hand  on  her  wrist ;  his 
fingers  loosed  hers  from  the  handle.  With  a 
sudden  gesture  she  let  go,  and  tore  the  veil  from 
her  throat  and  bosom.  "  Strike  here,  then  ;  that 


214  PASSE  ROSE. 

were  better.  If  tliou  lovest,  strike.  It  is  I  who 
lead  thee  to  death.  If  I  had  not  come  !  —  but 
I  loved  thee !  Strike,  I  tell  thee,  now,  while  I 
love  thee  ! " 

The  blade  fell  from  his  grasp,  his  frame  shook, 
and  he  sank  at  her  feet,  hiding  his  face  in  his 
hands. 

She  stooped  quickly,  picked  up  the  fallen 
poniard,  and  adjusted  her  dress.  "  Listen,"  she 
said,  between  her  breathing,  and  forcing  his 
hands  from  his  face.  "  Death  is  not  sweet  to 
those  who  love,  but  it  is  sweet  to  those  who  hate. 
Dost  thou  remember  the  dead  we  left  to  the  vul 
tures  by  the  Weser  ?  In  the  night  their  wounds 
cry  out  to  me.  If  I  lead  thee  to  his  chamber," 

—  she   lowered  her  voice,  —  "  the   king's,  that 
were  a  thing  worth  dying  for ;  I  and  thee  to 
gether." 

She  raised  her  head.  Brother  Dominic  was 
tapping  irresolutely  at  the  door. 

"  To  die !  "  she  whispered  passionately  in  his 
ear.  "  Nay,  I  will  not  have  it  so  !  I  love  thee 

—  we  will  fly.     Leave  it  only  to  me  —  I  have  a 
way.     For  him,  death  and  justice ;  for  us,  life 
and  love."     He  had  caught  her  again  in  his  arms. 
"  Nay,  nay."     She  struggled.     "  Loose  thy  hold. 
Let  me  go.     The   monk  will  rouse  the   house. 
My  shoes  !  "    She  slipped  her  sandaled  feet  into 
them,  drew  back  the  bolt,  cast  a  quick  look  of 


PASSE  ROSE.  215 

promise  and  triumph  at  her  lover,  and  closed  the 
door  behind  her. 

Brother  Dominic,  waiting  impatiently  without, 
had  at  first  laid  his  ear  to  the  door  and  listened. 
Then,  fearful  of  discovery,  he  hid  himself  in  an 
angle,  squatting  in  the  shadow.  He  had  forgot 
ten  the  five  canticles,  upon  whose  efficacy  he  re 
lied  in  hours  of  peril,  but  had  resolved  to  put  an 
end  to  this  mystery,  when  the  girl  opened  the 
door  suddenly  upon  him. 

"  Dear  monk,"  she  said,  pressing  his  hand  in 
her  own,  "  I  have  seen  thy  carpet ;  another  time 
I  will  see  thee.  Thou  hast  done  me  service,  and 
when  I  come  again  I  will  pay  thee  in  what  coin 
thoti  wilt ;  only  be  discreet.  Farewell." 

Enveloped  in  her  cloak,  she  hurried  through 
the  arch  into  the  street.  She  had  done  well  to 
come !  Friedgis  was  seeking  her.  She  had  felt 
sure  of  it.  He  knew  where  to  look,  too  ;  the  girl 
had  told  him.  Who  was  this  girl  ?  Aye,  she 
had  done  well  to  come.  What  wax  men  were  in 
soft  hands  !  That  was  a  happy  thought,  to  say 
the  king  loved  her ;  if  it  were  only  so  indeed ! 
Just  now  she  might  have  slain  Friedgis,  when 
he  lay  at  her  feet,  and,  again,  when  he  held  his 
lips  to  hers.  The  temptation  was  strong,  though 
the  monk  was  at  the  door,  —  she  loathed  him  so. 
But  this  was  better.  The  idea  came  to  her  when 
the  prior  said  the  Greek  had  not  come.  Pray 


216  PASSE  ROSE. 

God  he  might  not  come !  As  she  hurried  on,  she 
met  the  prior  returning  home.  There  was  an 
other  with  him,  and  the  two  were  laughing. 
"  Fool !  "  she  said  to  herself,  turning  to  gaze 
after  them.  "  Fret  not  over  thy  Greek.  I  have 
one  to  take  his  place,  one  whom  I  fear  not  to  use 
thy  blade  upon,  —  only,  by  thy  God,  dear  prior, 
I  will  use  it  before  he  goes  in  to  the  king,  and 
I  will  waken  the  king  myself.  If  he  gave  the 
monk  Fardolphus  an  abbey  for  revealing  the 
Hunchback's  plot,  he  will  give  me  my  lover. 
Nay,  what  will  he  not  give,  if  I  have  but  the  wit 
to  ask  aright?  "  And  in  her  exultation  a  cry  of 
triumph  burst  from  her  lips. 


XVI. 

It  was  one  of  those  mornings  such  as  come 
only  in  the  early  autumn.  The  air  was  crisp, 
sonorous,  and  still.  On  inhaling  this  air,  so 
pure,  so  invigorating,  one  thought  of  the  wood, 
its  odors  and  lights,  its  leaves  and  birds.  The 
king  had  gone  to  Frankenburg  to  hunt,  and  no 
wonder.  For  some  other  day,  less  alluring,  the 
sordid  suit,  the  pitiful  complaint,  the  accounts  of 
the  vidame ;  for  some  other  day,  less  fair,  the 
disputations  of  the  school,  those  terrible  ques 
tions,  What  is  man,  what  is  life,  what  is  death? 


PASSE  ROSE.  217 

and  those  terrible  answers,  A  guest  in  his  own 
abode,  the  expectation  of  death,  a  doubtful  jour 
ney.  To-day,  a  spear,  a  horse,  and  the  wood  ! 

On  his  way  to  the  service  of  the  first  hour, 
Brother  Dominic  inhaled  this  air  with  delight. 
On  rising  from  his  bed,  his  foot  had  encountered 
the  girl's  fillet  of  pearls.  Some  were  missing, 
their  fragments  scattered  on  the  floor;  the  rest 
were  whole.  What  a  sweet  odor  they  exhaled ! 
But  he  thrust  them  quickly  out  of  sight  into  his 
pouch,  for  shame  afflicted  him  sorely,  and  never 
does  an  evil  action  appear  so  shameful  as  in  the 
gray  light  of  dawn.  He  wished  to  flee  from 
himself,  and  hastened  out  into  the  street,  already 
full  of  people,  with  whom  he  mingled  gladly, 
listening  to  their  conversation,  greetings,  and 
laughter.  When  conscience  convicts,  one  feels 
one's  self  an  outcast ;  so  it  comforted  Brother 
Dominic  to  join  this  stream  of  life,  to  enter  the 
church  with  the  congregation,  to  raise  his  voice 
with  others  in  the  anthem,  and  to  listen  to  the 
clerks  reciting  the  psalms.  Fortified  by  all  these 
things,  he  said  to  himself  that  he  was  not  so  bad, 
after  all.  Having  breakfasted,  he  felt  still 
easier,  and  found  nothing  better  to  do  than  to  go 
to  the  service  of  the  third  hour,  also.  Yet  he 
was  conscious  that  he  was  no  longer  the  same 
man.  Ordinary  sights  and  sounds  had  acquired 
a  new  significance ;  a  veil  had  been  torn  away 


218  PASSE  EOSE. 

from  life.  As  he  returned,  a  band  of  singers 
and  players,  issuing  from  the  church  of  St.  Mar- 
cellus,  descended  the  steps  of  the  parvis  strewn 
with  flowers;  and  following  the  instruments 
came  the  newly  married,  hand  in  hand.  The 
pair  possessed  for  him  a  strange  fascination. 
They  walked  erect,  knowing  all  observed  them, 
blushing  and  hiding  their  joy.  Dieu!  how 
beautiful  it  was!  As  he  went  his  way,  two 
maids  preceded  him;  they  had  baskets,  and 
priming-knives  to  cut  the  grapes  from  the 
vines.  They  chatted  gayly,  and  one  said,  "  If  he 
comes  to-day,  do  thou  walk  beside  me  in  the 
same  row  ;  "  then  they  laughed,  one  with  pleas 
ure,  the  other  with  envy.  Was  the  world  then 
so  full  of  love  ?  It  suddenly  occurred  to  him 
that  he  ought  to  restore  the  pearls ;  and  he  be 
gan  to  imagine  with  what  dignity  he  would  com 
port  himself. 

"  Here  —  thy  pearls." 

"  Heaven  bless  thee,"  she  would  say.  "  I  had 
feared  "  — 

"  Heaven  bless  thee,  and  save  thee  indeed," 
he  would  answer,  and  go  his  way. 

Eehearsing  this  scene,  he  took  the  broken  fil 
let  from  his  pouch. 

"  Sawest  thou  the  queen  as  she  passed  to  the 
chase  ?  "  said  one  girl  to  the  other. 

"  Aye  ;  she  is  fairer  than  the  last  one." 


PASSE  ROSE.  219 

"  And  all  the  women  with  her  ?  One  had  a 
girdle  of  dragons  and  lions." 

"  The  images  of  those  who  will  one  day  devour 
her." 

"I  would  I  had  one  like  it,  nevertheless," 
sighed  the  other.  Then  they  laughed  together. 

"  How  still  the  palace  is !  There  is  not  a  soul 
left,"  observed  one,  as  they  passed  before  the 
gate. 

Brother  Dominic  paused.  Surely,  since  all 
were  at  the  chase,  it  were  no  harm  to  enter.  He 
crossed  the  court,  and  stopped  under  the  balcony. 
It  was  here  he  had  seen  her.  He  might  sit 
down  now  in  tranquillity ;  there  was  no  danger 
she  would  come.  Within,  a  maid  talked  with  a 
page  over  the  stair-rail.  "  When  wilt  thou  come 
again  ?  "  asked  the  page  in  a  low  voice. 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?  "  she  replied,  leaning  on 
the  balustrade. 

"  Adieu,"  said  the  page  reluctantly. 

"Adieu,"  answered  the  girl.  The  boy  lin 
gered. 

"  If  perchance  thou  wishest  a  kiss  —  take 
one,"  said  the  girl.  He  took  three ;  then  light 
feet  ran  up  the  stairs. 

"  What  a  world !  "  thought  Brother  Dominic, 
as  if  he  formed  no  part  of  it,  and  contemplated 
it  as  he  would  contemplate  an  object  held  in  his 
hand.  "  After  all,  it  must  be  so,"  he  added  re- 


220  PASSE  ROSE. 

flectively.  The  sun,  rising  above  the  roofs,  be 
gan  to  shine  in  his  face  ;  so  he  left  his  seat  and 
walked  along  the  gallery.  At  the  angle  was  an 
open  space  separating  the  main  from  the  lateral 
buildings.  A  stairway,  ascending  from  the  gal 
lery,  led  to  an  elevated  platform,  uncovered  to 
the  sky.  A  woman  servant,  bearing  a  jar  on 
her  head,  coming  down  the  steps,  gazed  at  the 
monk  curiously.  What  was  he  doing  there? 
Was  he  perchance  going  into  the  gynaBceum  ? 
At  the  foot  of  the  steps  she  turned  to  observe 
him.  Fatigued  by  the  ascent,  Brother  Dominic 
was  sitting  in  the  shade.  "Yes,  certainly,  it 
must  be  so,"  he  was  repeating  to  himself,  turn 
ing  over  the  pearls  in  his  hand.  A  second  stair 
way,  covered  by  an  arch,  led  down  to  the  level 
of  the  court  on  the  other  side.  The  gate  at  its 
bottom  step  was  open.  He  could  see  shrubbery 
and  hear  birds.  "  There  must  be  a  garden 
there,"  he  thought.  Holding  his  robe  in  his 
hand,  he  went  down  the  passage  steps  leisurely. 
How  still  it  was  !  As  the  girl  had  said,  every 
one  was  at  the  chase.  Ai'e !  that  were  fine,  — 
to  gallop  in  the  wood,  spear  in  hand,  after  the 
deer ;  and  he  began  to  imagine  himself  in  full 
pursuit,  the  flanks  of  his  horse  white  with  foam. 
It  must  be  easier  to  ride  a  horse  than  a  mule,  it 
appeared  so  simple  ;  he  would  throw  the  rein  on 
the  neck,  and  leave  his  companions  far  behind. 


PASSE  ROSE.  221 

How  they  sped !  like  an  arrow  from  the  bow, 
horse  and  rider  as  one.  And  now,  entangled  in 
the  thick  copse,  the  stag  was  at  bay,  its  horns 
were  lowered,  it  was  about  to  charge.  The 
spear  flew.  "  Dieu !  what  a  fine  blow  !  "  said  a 
voice  from  behind,  —  hers,  whose  purple  hair- 
band  fluttered  at  the  head  of  his  lance,  dyed 
deeper  now  in  the  jet  of  blood.  Agitated  and 
perspiring  at  the  thought  of  this  scene,  Brother 
Dominic  started  back.  Where  was  he  ?  God 
preserve  him  !  the  garden  was  full  of  women. 
It  resembled  the  cloister  at  Maestricht,  only 
more  spacious,  more  beautiful,  and  with  women 
for  monks.  He  turned  precipitately  to  retrace 
his  steps,  when,  under  the  trees  close  to  the  spot 
where  he  had  come,  he  saw  a  maid  looking  full 
upon  him.  Her  spindle  trembled  with  her 
laughter ;  her  eyes  shone  with  merriment,  as 
only  Agnes  of  Solier's  could.  He  must  have 
passed  her  as  he  entered,  and  there  she  sat, 
more  terrible  in  her  beauty  and  her  laughter 
than  the  dragon  at  the  gate  of  the  garden  of 
Hesperus.  Every  woman  in  the  place  ceased 
her  work  to  stare  at  him  :  this  he  knew  well, 
though  his  back  was  turned.  Had  God  then  de 
livered  him,  like  Job,  into  the  power  of  Satan  ? 
In  his  confusion  he  made  the  sign  of  the  cross 
with  the  girl's  fillet  of  pearls.  Seigneur,  what  a 
rosary  for  a  monk ! 


222  PASSE  ROSE. 

At  the  sight  of  the  black  gems  in  his  hand 
Agnes  ceased  her  laughter.  Rothilde's  pearls ! 

"  Whence  hast  thou  the  pearls  ?  "  she  called 
to  him,  making  a  sign  that  he  should  draw  near. 

"  The  pearls  ?  "  stammered  Brother  Dominic, 
assailed  in  an  unexpected  quarter.  "  I  found 
them  hard  by." 

"Hard  by?" 

"  Aye.  Some  one  hath  dropped  them  in  the 
court.  I  was  seeking  her  to  whom  they  should 
belong." 

"  Give  them  here,"  said  Agnes,  reaching  out 
her  hand.  The  monk  obeyed  with  alacrity, 
ready  to  profit  by  any  way  of  escape.  "  Some 
one  hath  set  his  foot  upon  them,"  she  said,  ex 
amining  them. 

"It  was  not  I.  I  found  them  so  when  I  rose 
from  bed."  Ah,  cursed  tongue !  What  was  he 
saying  ? 

"  From  bed?  "  said  Agnes  of  Solier,  looking 
up  with  surprise.  "  Thou  saidst  hard  by,  in  the 
court." 

"  In  the  abbot's  court,"  stammered  Brother 
Dominic,  sinking  deeper  in  the  mire,  —  "  the  ab 
bot  of  Fontenelle's,  where  I  lodge." 

"  Is  thy  bed  then  in  the  court  ?  "  asked  Agnes 
of  Solier,  marking  his  confusion  and  observing 
him  sharply. 

"Nay,"  gasped  Brother  Dominic,  seeking  to 


PASSE  ROSE.  223 

extricate  himself,  "  said  I  in  the  court  ?  In  my 
chamber."  Seigneur !  his  tongue  would  prove 
his  ruin ;  and  the  girl  had  said,  "  Be  discreet !  " 

"  In  thy  chamber  ?  "  said  Agnes  of  Solier, 
pricked  with  curiosity. 

"  It  was  not  to  me  she  came,  but  the  Saxon, 
—  the  porter."  Brother  Dominic  perceived  that 
he  was  no  longer  responsible  for  what  he  was 
saying.  It  was  the  devil  that  spoke,  not  he. 
If  ever  a  man  was  possessed  of  a  demon  bent  on 
his  ruin,  and  the  girl's  too,  it  was  he.  He  heard 
himself  speak  with  terror ;  he  endeavored  to  ar 
rest  his  tongue,  —  impossible.  There  was  but 
one  thing  to  do,  —  to  fly.  Never  would  he  be 
tray  the  girl !  He  cast  a  despairing  look  about 
him,  and  called  the  saints  to  his  succor  for  a  des 
perate  effort. 

44  Wait !  "  cried  Agnes,  rising  from  her  seat. 
44 1  would  speak  with  thee." 

But  Brother  Dominic's  foot  was  on  the  stair, 
and  naught  but  a  wall  or  a  barred  gate  could 
arrest  him.  "  Blessed  St.  Servais,  aid  me  !  "  he 
ejaculated,  taking  two  steps  at  a  time.  Ah  !  if 
ever  he  got  back  to  his  desk  again,  he  would 
serve  God  indeed. 

Many  a  good  resolution  is  conceived  in  fear, 
and  a  nightmare  serves  sometimes  to  wake  one 
from  moral  lethargy.  In  the  heat  of  his  igno 
minious  retreat  Brother  Dominic  formed  a  pious 


224  PASSE  ROSE. 

resolve.  To  his  excited  imagination,  the  garden 
into  which  he  had  unwittingly  penetrated,  with 
its  flowers,  fountains,  and  maidens,  became  a 
symbol  of  that  paradise  whence  our  first  parents 
were  driven,  and  before  the  reproaches  of  his 
conscience  he  fled  as  they  had  fled  before  the 
sword  of  the  angel.  He  would  go  back  to  that 
quiet  cell  whose  window  overlooked  a  world 
with  which  he  could  not  cope,  a  paradise  whose 
trees  bore  such  sweet  but  terrible  fruits  of 
knowledge,  and  with  whose  realities  he  was 
unfit  to  wrestle.  God  had  provided  that  cell  for 
such  as  he,  and  he  had  known  no  peace  since  he 
left  it.  The  world  was  too  vast  a  scene  for  his 
activities;  it  entangled  him  in  matters  whose 
issue  threatened  soul  and  body.  Every  step  in 
volved  a  peril.  He  would  go  back  to  that  soli 
tude  where  he  could  hear  the  voice  of  God. 
The  mirth  of  the  abbot's  table,  its  wine  and 
flowers ;  this  woman  whose  smiles  entranced 
him,  whose  garments  shed  forth  perfumes; 
these  hours  of  idleness  breeding  dreams  of  for 
bidden  pleasures ;  this  great  capital  whose 
splendors  allured  and  overwhelmed  him,  —  how 
should  a  simple  monk  contend  with  such 
things!  Danger?  It  was  the  very  fragrance 
of  the  flower,  the  sparkle  of  the  wine,  the  glitter 
of  the  girdle  and  the  beauty  which  it  zoned. 
Doubtless  others  to  whom  God  gave  his  grace 


PASSE  ROSE.  225 

might  walk  in  safety  amid  such  perils,  as  the 
three  holy  ones  had  stood  in  the  flames  of  the 
furnace  clothed  in  the  dew  of  purity.  But  as 
for  him,  he  would  that  very  day  gain  the  prior's 
permission  to  return  to  Maestricht.  This  reso 
lution  was  taken  before  he  reached  the  palace 
gate,  and  in  passing  from  under  the  portal  the 
air  seemed  fresher,  his  step  more  buoyant,  and 
he  experienced  the  charm  of  that  cloister  garth 
he  had  forsaken  with  so  foolish  a  pride,  desirous 
of  seeing  the  world  from  whose  vortex  he  was 
now  escaping  with  his  soul  in  his  hand. 

The  prior  was  abroad  when  he  returned. 
Evidently  God  would  try  his  purpose.  He 
would  fast  that  day,  and  observe  the  hours. 
Firm  in  his  resolve,  he  recited  his  prayers  inces 
santly,  keeping  his  room,  and  rising  even  at 
midnight  to  attend  the  service  in  the  king's  ora 
tory. 

XVII. 

• 

It  was  the  harvest  month,  and  the  leaves  were 
beginning  to  strew  the  windy  lanes  of  the  wood. 
All  the  day  long  the  hillsides  resounded  with  the 
baying  of  hounds,  baffled  by  the  water  of  the 
marsh  where  the  boar  had  fled.  One  could 
hear  the  heavy  flight  of  the  heron  scared  from 
his  haunt,  and  the  quick  beat  of  the  wild  duck's 


226  PASSE  ROSE. 

wings  skimming  the  surface  of  the  pond.  The 
quail,  listening  with  head  erect,  ran  through  the 
thick  reeds  as  the  tumult  drew  near.  But  their 
fear  was  vain ;  it  was  not  these  the  hunter 
sought.  Twice  the  long,  monotonous  bay  of 
the  pack  changed  to  the  sharp,  quick  cry  whose 
meaning  the  hunter  knows  so  well  —  when  the 
trail  grows  fresh,  and  more  than  water  to  the 
dripping  tongue  is  the  sight  of  his  prey  to  the 
eager  hound.  Twice  had  those  foremost  in  the 
chase  found  a  spot  where  the  trampled  grass  was 
matted  with  blood  and  torn  from  the  mould  by 
the  struggling  feet ;  where  the  flags  were  pressed 
into  the  moist  earth,  and  the  boar  on  his 
haunches  had  waited  his  pursuers  —  and  here, 
ah,  poor  Brochart,  the  leader  of  the  pack,  slit 
from  breast  to  flank  by  the  tusk !  —  what,  thou 
canst  still  lick  the  hand  ?  Brave  dog !  And 
here  another  has  crawled  into  the  thicket,  leav 
ing  a  red  track.  Is  it  thou,  Biche,  thy  mis 
tress's  favorite?  Seigneur,  what  a  struggle 
was  here !  The  dog  moans  pitifully,  feeling  the 
hand's  caress.  But  hark!  the  beast  is  at  bay 
again.  The  hand  strokes  the  ears  gently  once 
more,  then  lifts  the  horn  to  the  lips,  and  the 
dog  is  left  alone  to  die. 

At  last,  for  the  third  time,  the  boar  turned. 
It  was  at  the  very  spot  where,  startled  from  its 
sleep,  it  had  first  heard  the  distant  cry  of  the 


PASSE  ROSE.  227 

pack,  and,  rising  on  its  fore  feet  from  the  moss, 
had  crashed  through  the  reeds  bordering  the 
swamp.  Hound  and  hunter  were  scattered  now. 
The  race  had  been  hot,  and  there  were  dogs  in 
the  wood  that  never  would  answer  cry  again. 
Its  bristles  erect  on  its  neck,  its  small  eyes 
twinkling  with  rage,  blood  and  foam  dripping 
from  its  yellow  tusks,  the  boar  waited  on  its 
haunches.  A  hound,  springing  out  of  the 
thicket,  leaped  upon  one  of  these  tusks  to  re 
ceive  its  death-wound  before  the  cry  on  its 
tongue  was  finished.  Its  fellow,  following  close 
behind,  stood  at  a  little  distance,  howling  pite- 
ously,  its  flanks  smeared  with  blood.  At  the 
sound  of  its  master  breaking  through  the  flags 
it  began  to  run  to  and  fro,  yelping  furiously. 
The  boar  paid  it  no  heed,  watching  the  place 
whence  came  the  sound  of  breaking  stems ; 
there  was  the  enemy  to  be  feared  —  Gui  of 
Tours. 

Gui  stopped  at  the  edge  of  the  opening  to  get 
his  breath.  His  horse  had  been  long  since 
abandoned ;  his  spear  was  lost ;  he  had  a  wooden 
javelin  shod  with  iron  in  his  hand,  and  a  knife 
in  his  belt ;  the  broken  cord  of  his  horn  hung 
from  its  ring.  For  a  moment"  man  and  beast 
confronted  each  other.  Cowed  by  the  silence, 
the  dog  began  to  whine.  The  boar  was  still  un 
hurt,  though  lacerated  by  the  dog's  teeth.  It 


228  PASSE  ROSE. 

was  an  old  one,  as  could  be  seen  by  the  curved 
tusks.  Gui  drew  his  knife  and  looked  into  its 
eyes.  He  would  have  risked  death  a  thousand 
times  to  find  Passe  Rose— but  why  should  he 
risk  life  to  slay  a  boar  ?  When  the  blood  is  up 
one  does  not  think  of  such  things.  He  wiped 
the  perspiration  from  his  eyes,  planted  his  feet 
firmly,  drew  back  his  arm,  and  launched  his 
weapon. 

A  heavyweight  had  crushed  him  to  the  earth. 
He  struck  out  blindly  with  his  knife ;  it  was  in 
his  right  hand  — how  had  he  changed  it?  His 
hip  burned  as  with  fire  —  was  it  the  tusk,  or  the 
hoof,  he  wondered.  Ah,  he  had  struck  the  dog 

A  warm   stream  ran  down  his  arm,  then  & 

shower  of  sparks  danced  before  his  eyes,  and 
the  weight  on  his  chest  grew  heavier.  He  made 
an  effort  with  both  hands  to  cast  it  off— there 
was  nothing  there ;  yet  it  grew  heavier  —  was 
he  bound?  He  endeavored  to  cry  out  —  what 
had  he  said  in  that  moment  of  involuntary  ter 
ror  when  the  fear,  not  of  death,  but  of  ceasing 
to  think,  to  feel,  to  love,  seized  him?  — Passe 

Rose! 

The  sun  was  already  low,  a  cold  fog  was  be 
ginning  to  rise  from  the  marshes,  and  the  queen 
had  resolved  to  return  to  the  hunting-seat  of 
Frankenburg  to  await  the  king.  The  day  had 
not  passed  as  had  been  planned.  Everything 


PASSE  ROSE.  229 

had  been  arranged  as  for  a  battle;  actor  and 
spectator  had  each  been  assigned  his  post  and 
duty;     but    the    ambuscades    had    failed,   the 
would-be  actor  had  heard  the  noise  of  the  pur 
suit  drift  away,  and   the   spectator  had  found 
himself  in  the  thick  of  the  fray  without  warn 
ing;   twice  the  cortege  of  the  queen  had  been 
scattered —  the  battle  had  become  a  melee.    Fol 
lowed  by  a  numerous  train,  the  queen  advanced 
slowly   through    the   wood.      Where    was    the 
king?     God  only  knew.     From  far  away  came 
the   cry  of   baffled   dogs,  a   solitary  shout,  the 
echo  of  a  horn.     The  queen  rode  in  silence,  sur 
rounded  by  her  escort ;  from  time  to  time  she 
turned  her   head  to  listen,  or  to  address  some 
question  to  those  at  her  side.     In  advance  went 
the  royal  equerries,  alert,  their  javelins  in  their 
hands.     With  such  a  beast  it  was  necessary  to 
be  cautious,  even  though  the  vine-clad  tower  of 
Frankenburg  was  in  sight.     The  waters  of  the 
lake  shone  through  the  trees  like  an  amethyst 

it  was  said  that  these  colors  were  due  to  the 

fires  of  Fastrade's  magic  ring,  hidden  in  its 
depths.  Behind  the  queen,  among  the  king's 
daughters,  there  was  laughter  and  whispering. 
All  were  there,  Rothrude,  Bertrade,  and  the 
timid  Gisele,  their  robes  double-dyed  with 
purple  and  sewn  with  flowers  of  gold ;  and  last 
of  all,  Kothaide,  the  eldest,  grave  and  stately 


230  PASSE  ROSE. 

between  the  young  children  of  Fastrade.  In 
proportion  as  the  distance  from  the  queen  in 
creased,  the  laughter  was  more  merry  and  the 
conversation  less  restrained.  They  recounted 
the  day's  adventures,  conjectured  its  issue,  and 
discussed  what  should  have  been  done. 

"  Do  they  chase  the  boar  with  thee  ?  "  cried 
Gesualda  to  Rothilde,  leaning  back  on  her 
horse. 

"  If  I  had  had  a  net,  when  the  beast  halted, 
perceiving  us,  and  the  dogs  were  upon  him,"  — 
a  page  was  saying. 

"Thou  would'st  have  attacked  it  single- 
handed,"  laughed  Heluiz  of  Hesbaye,  patting 
the  blonde  head  at  her  stirrup. 

"Ho,  there!  "  cried  the  page  to  a  greyhound, 
which,  leaving  the  boy's  heel,  sniffed  in  the 
bushes. 

"  It  is  a  hare,"  said  Rothilde. 

"Ho !  ^  cried  the  page,  tugging  at  the  thong, 
and  raising  his  whip.  The  dog,  straining  at 
the  collar,  tore  the  strap  from  the  boy's  hand. 
"By  the  King  of  Heaven!"  exclaimed  the 
latter,  disappearing  after  the  hound  in  the 
thicket. 

"He  hath  the  king's  oath  by  heart,"  laughed 
Heluiz  of  Hesbaye. 

A  furious  barking,  succeeded  by  a  shout, 
came  from  the  copse.  At  the  sound  of  this  cry 


PASSE  ROSE.  231 

Heluiz's  laughter  ceased.  Two  men-at-arms  ran 
into  the  bush,  followed  by  Gesualda  and  Ro- 
thilde.  "  What  is  it  ?  "  cried  those  in  advance. 
"  A  dog  hath  started  a  hare,"  said  one.  But  a 
sort  of  terror  spread  through  the  troop.  Some 
ran  back,  others  waited,  listening.  Beyond, 
among  the  king's  daughters,  they  turned  their 
heads,  asking  what  had  happened.  Her  heart 
beating,  Heluiz  urged  her  horse  in  the  direction 
whence  the  cry  had  come.  At  a  little  distance 
the  copse  grew  thin ;  there  was  an  opening,  and 
a  crowd  about  something  in  its  centre.  "  Wa 
ter,  —  run  to  the  lake  !  "  cried  a  voice  from  its 
midst. 

Heluiz  slipped  from  her  horse  and  ran  for 
ward.  Stretched  on  the  ground  were  a  man  and 
a  dog.  "  Agnes  !  Agnes  !  "  she  cried  involunta 
rily.  The  man's  body  was  straight,  the  hands  by 
the  side  ;  but  the  dog,  lying  on  its  back,  seemed 
still  defending  itself,  its  mouth  full  of  hair  and 
bristles,  and  a  dagger  buried  to  the  hilt  in  its 
neck. 

"Ho,  here!  the  boar,  the  boar!"  cried  one 
from  the  edge  of  the  opening.  Those  on  the 
skirts  of  the  group  ran  to  see. 

Heluiz  pressed  forward  to  where  Gui  lay. 
"  Is  he  dead  ?  " 

"  Nay,  a  scratch,"  said  the  page,  unfastening 
the  tunic,  and  wishing  it  were  he  who  was  thus 


232  PASSE  ROSE. 

watched  by  such  eyes  and  lifted  by  such  hands. 
For  Heluiz  had  taken  Gui's  head  in  her  lap. 
She  tore  the  wet  moss  from  its  roots  to  lay  it  on 
his  brow  —  it  was  wet  indeed,  but  with  blood. 
"  Loosen  the  belt,"  she  said  to  the  page. 

As  he  obeyed,  Rothilde,  leaning  over  the 
captain,  uttered  a  cry  of  terror.  Between  the 
leather  pleatings,  next  his  heart,  she  saw  the 
sealed  packet  of  papers  she  had  given  the  monk 
at  Immaburg  for  the  prior.  They  were  those 
which  Passe  Rose  had  gotten  from  Brother 
Dominic,  together  with  that  other  she  had  found 
in  the  road  by  the  abbey  the  night  of  her  last 
visit  to  Friedgis.  They  had  fallen  from  her 
bosom  when  the  captain  bore  her  in  his  arms 
from  the  chapel  at  Immaburg  to  the  wagon,  and 
he  had  thrust  them  in  his  tunic,  where  they  had 
remained  to  this  day.  Rothilde,  paler  than 
Gui,  reached  forth  her  hand  to  take  them,  when 
a  rough  arm  pushed  her  aside,  and  a  voice  of 
command  said,  — 

"  Away  with  these  women !  Here,  you  fel 
lows,  think  ye  a  dead  boar  will  run  away  ? 
Make  a  litter  of  lances  and  boughs."  And  the 
speaker  lifted  Gui  in  his  vigorous  arms. 

On  every  side  they  were  discussing,  question 
ing.  Each  related  how  the  affair  had  taken 
place.  He  must  have  closed  with  the  boar  knife 
in  hand,  —  there  were  six  thrusts  behind  the 


PASSE  ROSE.  233 

shoulder  within  the  space  of  two  palms,  from 
below  upward,  —  therefore  the  beast  was  above  ; 
the  dog  had  leaped  on  its  back,  and  received  the 
knife  by  hazard. 

"  I  would  I  had  been  there,"  said  the  page. 

Kothilde  was  not  listening.  She  wished  to 
follow  the  litter,  but  dared  not.  At  the  sight 
of  the  papers,  a  multitude  of  pictures,  hitherto 
distinct  in  her  mind,  blended  into  one,  —  Passe 
Kose,  wearing  her  collar  in  the  supper-room  at 
Immaburg,  with  Friedgis'  name  on  her  lips  ;  her 
whisperings  with  the  monk  at  the  chapel  porch, 
and  GUI'S  defense  of  her  on  the  terrace  and  at 
supper.  "  Cursed  girl !  "  she  muttered,  follow 
ing  at  a  little  distance  her  companions. 

Heluiz  thought  only  of  Agnes,  who,  vexed 
with  her  lover,  had  refused  to  join  in  the  chase. 
"  In  the  morning  one  pouts,  and  at  night  sheds 
bitter  tears,"  Heluiz  said  to  herself.  "  My  heart 
bleeds  for  her,"  she  whispered  to  Gesualda  as 
they  left  the  place  together. 

"  Nay,"  answered  Gesualda,  knowing  well  of 
whom  Heluiz  spoke,  "  the  wound  is  not  deep, 
only  when  blood  is  lost "  — 

"  I  would  some  one  told  her  gently,"  inter 
rupted  Heluiz. 

Rothilde,  walking  behind  the  two,  stooped 
suddenly  to  the  page's  ear.  "  Wilt  thou  ride 
with  me  to  Aix  to-night  ?  " 


234  PASSE  ROSE. 

"  Aye,  truly,  mistress,"  said  the  boy  wonder- 
ingly. 

"  Eun,  then,  quickly  to  the  queen,  and  say 
that  I  have  gone  to  soften  the  tidings  to  Agnes 
of  Solier.  Here,  take  my  horse ;  I  will  find 
another." 

The  night  was  near  when  the  two  left  the 
wood.  On  reaching  the  road  Rothilde  gave  her 
horse  the  rein.  "  Hold  firm,"  she  said.  The 
boy  laughed  scornfully  to  think  a  woman  should 
so  address  him,  and  drove  his  horse  to  her  side. 
But  the  girl  was  mounted  on  a  long-limbed  mare 
she  had  gotten  from  one  of  the  escort,  while 
he  had  but  her  palfrey ;  and  stride  by  stride,  to 
his  rage  and  mortification,  she  drew  away,  till 
naught  but  a  cloud  of  dust  was  before  him,  and 
a  distant  beat  of  hoofs  borne  backward  by  the 
wind. 

Fleet  as  her  own  shadow,  leaping  from  stone 
to  hedge,  and  from  hedge  to  meadow,  leaped  the 
girl's  thought  from  conjecture  to  plan.  She  was 
ignorant  of  the  contents  of  the  papers.  A  clerk 
from  Beneventum  —  one  of  those  sent  by  the 
Pope  to  teach  the  plain  chant  —  had  given  them 
to  her  at  Immaburg  for  the  prior,  and  the  lat 
ter  had  bidden  her  send  such  by  the  hand  of 
Brother  Dominic.  "  Cursed  monk ! "  she  re 
peated  under  her  breath  as  the  lights  of  Aix 
came  in  view.  The  strings  of  the  net  had  been 


PASSE  ROSE.  235 

in  her  grasp,  the  life  of  the  king  in  her  hand, 
wherewith  to  buy  of  his  gratitude  her  heart's 
desires.  A  few  days  more  —  and  now,  perhaps, 
the  sword  and  the  cord.  She  did  not  fear  them, 
but  to  lose  her  soul's  desires.  And  with  her 
rage  mingled  a  fierce  indignation,  the  indigna 
tion  of  a  virtue  balked.  For  was  she  not  pur 
posing  to  save  the  king's  life  ?  and  this  lovesick 
monk  would  ruin  all.  The  distance  was  scarce 
two  thousand  paces,  but  the  steed  breathed  hard 
and  hung  its  head  as  the  girl  drew  up  before 
the  abbot  of  Fontenelle's.  Sliding  from  her 
seat,  she  patted  the  warm  neck,  bidding  the 
mare  stand,  and  went  boldly  in  the  gate.  Her 
mind  was  made  up.  She  would  know  the  con 
tents  of  the  papers,  and  if  it  proved  as  she 
feared,  she  would  go  that  very  night  to  Franken- 
burg  and  tell  the  king.  By  the  fountain  on  the 
side  of  the  stables  men  were  watering  horses, 
and  among  them  she  saw  with  joy  the  prior's 
asses.  Raising  one  hand  to  her  lips  she  uttered 
a  low,  peculiar  cry.  Instantly  one  of  the  men 
turned  and  ran  towards  her.  It  was  Friedgis. 

"  Hush,"  she  whispered,  laying  hold  of  his 
hand.  "  Is  thy  master,  the  prior,  within?  " 

Seeing  her  white  face  he  nodded  speechless. 

"  Go  to  him  and  say,  4  To-night,  this  very 
hour,  at  the  ford  of  the  Wurm,  without  fail.' 
Kepeat  the  words  after  me."  He  repeated 


236  PASSE  ROSE. 

them.  "  Aye,  without  fail.  And  do  thou,"  —  she 
pressed  his  hand  and  drew  nearer  to  him,  —  "  do 
thou  take  the  horse  thou  wilt  find  without,  and 
wait  for  me  at  the  west  gate,  the  gate  by  which 
thou  earnest."  She  raised  herself  on  her  feet  till 
her  lips  touched  his.  "  Go,"  she  said. 

She  stroked  the  mare's  neck  again  as  she 
passed  in  the  street,  hurrying  to  the  palace  on 
foot.  The  square  was  crowded  with  those  wait 
ing  to  see  the  king's  return.  She  threaded  the 
throng  as  a  young  quail  threads  the  rye,  slipped 
between  the  pillars  under  the  gallery,  and  ran 
up  the  stairs.  At  the  threshold  of  Agnes'  room 
she  hesitated.  It  was  not  for  this  she  had  come, 
and  words  failed  her.  Agnes  was  sitting  before 
her  toilet-table  preparing  for  the  supper  await 
ing  the  king's  return.  She  would  not  ride  that 
day  with  her  lover  to  the  chase,  but  she  was 
making  ready,  nevertheless,  for  his  coming,  and 
was  looking  at  herself  in  the  metal  disk  when 
she  saw  there  the  face  of  Rothilde.  She  turned, 
penetrated  with  a  sudden  fear. 

"  He  is  not  much  hurt,"  stammered  Ro^ 
thilde. 

"  Who  ?  "  said  Agnes,  striving  to  conceal  her 
own  wound,  but  seeing  the  walls  reel. 

"  A  mere  scratch,"  said  Rothilde,  remember 
ing  what  some  one  had  said  in  the  wood.  Then 
she  saw  Agnes  put  out  her  hands  and  totter. 


PASSE  ROSE.  237 

She  sprang  to  the  table  for  the  cruet,  and  there 
beside  the  flasks  of  rose-water  lay  her  pearls ! 
For  a  moment  she  stood  aghast,  then,  grasping 
them  in  her  hand,  ran  out,  calling  aid.  "  Thy 
mistress  is  ill,"  she  said  to  the  women  who  an 
swered  her  cry.  "  Gui  of  Tours  is  hurt  by  the 
boar  —  go  to  her  —  and  you,  Marcent,  run  for 
the  king's  leech,"  saying  which,  she  disappeared 
down  the  stair. 

In  the  court  the  page  was  dismounting  from 
her  palfrey.     She  laughed  at  his  rueful  face. 
"  Give  me  thy  knee,"  she  said. 
"Where  art  thou  going? "he  asked,  aiding 
her  to  the  saddle. 

"  To  meet  the  queen." 

"  Another  time,  mistress,"  said  the  boy,  clench 
ing  his  fist,  "  I  will  ride  with  thee  "  — 

She  laughed  over  her  shoulder  as  she  went 
out  of  the  gate,  and  put  the  palfrey  to  a  gallop 
on  the  road  to  Immaburg. 


XVIII. 

On  leaping  from  the  wagon  at  the  edge  of  the 
ford,  Passe  Eose  fell ;  but,  springing  quickly  to 
her  feet,  ran  with  all  her  speed,  giving  no  back 
ward  glance  till  she  came  to  the  waters.  Every 
eddy  and  muddy  cloud  which  the  wheels  had 


238  PASSE  ROSE. 

made  was  gone,  and  the  stars  shone  placid  in 
the  smooth-flowing  current;  but  so  deep  were 
they  set,  and  so  forbidding  was  the  stream,  that 
for  all  her  haste  she  turned  along  the  bank,  still 
running,  nor  stopped  for  breath  till  the  wood 
had  hidden  the  distant  glare  of  the  torches. 
The  moon  was  behind  the  trees,  but  she  saw  by 
the  narrow  lane  of  stars  overhead  that  another 
road  branched  from  the  ford,  and  this  she  took 
without  debate,  now  running,  now  walking,  and 
so  pressed  by  the  fear  of  pursuit  that  all  her 
thought  was  fixed  on  the  sounds  she  could  scarce 
separate  from  her  own  flying  footsteps.  Sud 
denly  the  star-track  above  widened  and  a  dark 
mass,  distinguishable  only  by  reason  of  its  denser 
blackness,  detached  itself  from  the  gloom  of  the 
forest.  She  stopped,  spent  and  terrified,  when 
a  low  familiar  sound  of  cooing  doves,  crowding 
each  other  on  their  perch,  came  as  it  were  from 
the  treetops.  Keassured,  she  advanced  step  by 
step  till  the  thatch  of  a  roof  stood  out  against 
the  sky  line,  then  stopped  again,  listening. 
Heated  by  her  long  run,  the  night  air  made  her 
shiver.  As  she  debated  whether  to  seek  shelter 
in  this  hut,  thinking  how  those  within  might  re 
ceive  her  and  whether,  if  any  pursued,  to  tarry 
here  were  not  certain  discovery,  a  distant  shout 
caused  her  to  start  forward  again;  but  being 
out  of  the  road  she  stumbled  and  fell,  and  on 


PASSE  ROSE.  239 

regaining  her  feet  found  her  passage  blocked 
by  a  low  outbuilding.  Her  outstretched  hand 
touched  the  door-post  —  an  odor  of  trodden  hay 
and  steaming  bodies  came  from  within.  Stoop 
ing  to  avoid  the  thatch,  she  stepped  over  the 
threshold,  groping  in  the  darkness.  It  was  the 
sheepfold.  "  So,  so,"  she  said  softly,  for  the 
sheep,  huddled  together,  began  to  press  toward 
the  opening.  "  So,  so,"  she  repeated.  But  the 
flock  crowded  the  more,  and  knowing  well  that 
to  argue  or  threaten  were  folly,  she  dropped  on 
the  floor  among  them.  The  space  was  small, 
and  they  pressed  about  her,  she  lying  still  as  if 
one  of  them  till  their  alarm  had  subsided.  One 
had  its  nose  against  her  neck,  and  the  murmur 
of  its  breathing  filled  her  ear.  She  lifted  her 
head  and  listened  —  without,  also,  all  was  still ; 
then  she  rested  her  cheek  on  the  soft  shoulder 
next  her,  her  face  deep  in  the  fleece,  the  smell 
of  the  wool  in  her  nostrils,  the  hot  breath  on 
her  throat.  The  warmth  and  shelter  of  the 
place  filled  her  with  a  sense  of  safety  and  com 
fort,  arid  no  longer  shivering,  she  closed  her 
eyes. 

It  is  strange  that  the  mind,  having  such 
power  to  torture  us,  should  be  so  readily  set 
aside  by  a  little  bodily  discomfort.  The  scratch 
of  a  pin  or  an  aching  nerve  is  enough  to  make 
it  loose  its  hold ;  the  lesser  pain  routs  the 


240  PASSE  ROSE. 

greater,  and  thought  and  feeling  must  wait  till 
the  body  hath  ease  again.     But  no  sooner  did 
Passe  Rose  close  her  eyes  in  warmth  and  safety 
than  thick-coming  thoughts  forced  them  open, 
and  there  they  stared  in  the  dark  as  if  the  fold 
were  lighted  by  a  thousand   candles,  and   her 
mind's  pictures  painted  on  its  clay  walls.    Little 
the  sheep  knew  what  splendors  and  miseries  of 
love  and  passion  God  and  the  Devil  there  showed 
her;  and  it  would  have  puzzled  the  abbot,  or 
even  Alcuin,  the  king's  chief  scholar,  to  separate 
1  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left  the  motives 
which  kept  her  to  her  first  resolve.     Mixed  with 
the  clay  and  dross  as  they  were,  they  filled  the 
secret  deeps  of  her  heart  with  a  sweet  satisfac* 
tion,   like  the  calm  below  a  wind-tossed  ocean. 
Often  she  was  ready  to  rise  up  and  go  to  claim 
her  own.     Was  it  not  hers  by  right?    What  if 
she  should  possess  it  for  but  a  moment  —  that 
moment  of  possession  in  the  eyes  of  them  all,  of 
Agnes?     Oh,  Mother  of  God!     Was  this  not 
hers  in  justice  ?    Why  should  she  hide  like  a 
felon  in  a  sheep-pen  while  another  laughed  in 
the  sun  ?   Her  blood  boiled,  and,  lying  the  while 
motionless    among   the    sheep,    she    braved,    in 
thought,  the  guards  at  the  king's  gate,  and  stood 
before  them  all.     Jewels  and  dresses  were  not 
her  quest,  but  he,  her  lover.     The  king  would 
frown,  the  women  stare,  and  Agnes  of  Solier  — 


PASSE  ROSE.  241 

there  she  stood,  insolent,  as  in  the  supper-hall 
of  Immaburg.  What  mattered  it  ?  She  would 
put  her  hand  in  her  lover's,  —  its  grasp  was  like 
iron,  —  it  was  hers  and  none  other's.  If  the 
king  smote  her,  —  nay,  let  God  himself  smite 
her,  —  the  greater  the  despoiler,  the  greater  the 
wrong.  He  was  hers  by  right.  The  world 
might  grind  her  to  dust  —  what  mattered  it  ?  — 
and  him  also  —  ah,  no  !  And  like  the  river,  the 
rush  of  whose  waters  the  rock,  mid-stream,  hurls 
back  and  scatters,  her  thought  recoiled,  and  she 
began  to  tremble.  Why  throw  away  everything 
just  to  lie  on  his  breast?  She  could  wait,  oh, 
for  ages ;  and  a  vision  of  some  far-away  place 
rose  before  her.  When  ?  Where  ?  She  did  not 
ask,  but  some  time,  somewhere  —  God  would 
not  permit  it  to  be  otherwise  —  her  lover  would 
come.  She  saw  him  afar  —  at  every  step  she 
quivered  —  now  he  was  come,  and  stood  above 
her ;  his  touch  made  her  cry  out ;  then  she  lay 
still  in  his  arms,  trembling.  Cramped  between 
the  sheep,  she  slid  down  lower  at  full  length. 
Her  foot  pained  her.  She  must  have  hurt  it 
when  she  leaped.  What  had  he  thought  when 
he  looked  in  the  wagon  and  found  her  gone  ? 
By  this  time  they  must  have  reached  the  city. 
Would  he  turn  back  to  find  her  ?  If  he  came 
she  would  lie  still,  and  if  he  found  her,  that 
would  be  a  sign  that  God  would  have  it  so.  She 


242  PASSE  ROSE. 

would  arise  ;  they  would  go  forth  together ;  and 
a  sudden  childish  memory  of  a  blue  sea  shim 
mering  in  the  sunlight  passed  before  her  eyes. 
She  recollected  the  Greek  jeweler  whom  she  had 
met  when  she  was  with  the  merchants.  He  had 
told  her  of  isles  in  a  sea  where  no  rain  fell. 
Bah,  how  she  loathed  him  and  his  jewels  ! 
"  Oh  my  Gui,  my  Gui !  "  she  whispered.  Her 
thought  grew  more  confused.  The  murmur  of 
the  breathing  sheep  sounded  louder.  Now  it 
was  the  oft-heard  roar  of  the  river  next  the  wall 
at  Maestricht,  of  the  leaves  in  the  wood  of  Hes- 
baye,  and  now  the  lapping  of  the  blue  sea  waves 
on  isles  where  no  rain  falls.  Her  eyes  struggled 
to  open.  It  was  true !  Nightingales  were,  indeed, 
singing  in  the  myrtles,  and  she  had  thought  her 
self  pursued  and  hiding  in  a  sheep-pen !  She 
opened  her  eyes  wide  now.  The  ugly  dream 
was  over.  Her  lover  bent  over  her ;  above  his 
head  was  the  sky.  "  Oh,  my  Gui,  my  Gui !  " 
she  murmured,  and  so  fell  asleep. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Passe  Rose  that  the  mas 
ter  of  the  grange  was  with  Pepin  in  the  marshes 
of  the  Theiss,  for  his  soul  was  small  with  the 
greed  of  gain  ;  and  another  mouth  to  fill,  though 
it  were  that  of  the  babe  that  came  the  last  Eas 
ter  night,  made  him  cry  out  against  God's  injus 
tice.  But  the  wife  was  tender  of  every  living 
thing,  even  to  the  hare  which  fled  from  the  kite 


PASSE  ROSE.  243 

to  her  door.  The  children  had  found  the  girl 
still  asleep  in  the  gray  of  the  dawn,  and  had 
brought  her  within,  gaping  with  wonder  at  her 
strange  dress,  the  tinkling  bells,  and  the  anklets 
about  her  feet.  "  Give  me  only  shelter  from  the 
wolves,"  had  said  Passe  Rose,  "  till  my  foot  is 
at  ease,"  —  for  she  limped  with  pain,  —  "  and  I 
will  gather  thy  fagots  and  grind  thy  wheat." 

"  Whence  art  thou  ?  "  asked  the  woman,  as 
tonished  at  her  beauty. 

"  I  am  from  the  South,"  said  Passe  Rose  ; 
and  seeing  the  woman  observing  her  hair,  "  In 
my  country  a  girl  may  braid  her  hair  if  she 
will." 

"  Hast  thou  no  kin  ?  " 

"  Aye,"  said  Passe  Rose,  thinking  how  Agnes 
of  Solier  had  asked  her  the  same  question  at  Im- 
maburg,  "  I  have  a  mother  who  loves  me  well." 

"  Poor  soul,"  replied  the  woman,  "  thy  foot  is 
bruised." 

"  Give  me  the  babe  while  thou  stirrest  the 
stew,"  said  Passe  Rose.  The  woman  hesitated. 
Her  babe  was  christened,  yet  if  by  chance  the 
girl  were  a  witch  —  "I  will  guard  the  pot  my 
self,"  laughed  Passe  Rose. 

If  the  mother  feared,  as  well  she  might,  her 
doubts  scarce  lived  till  night.  Never  in  the 
prime  of  her  strength,  before  her  children  taxed 
her  care,  had  she  accomplished  what  Passe  Rose 


244  PASSE  ROSE. 

did  that  day  ;  and  when  they  were  all  together 
in  bed  Passe  Eose  had  the  babe  in  her  arms 
while  the  wife  was  planning  what  she  should 
say  to  her  husband  that  he  should  grant  the  girl 
to  stay ;  for,  if  by  God's  grace  the  Huns  had  not 
slain  him,  he  must  now  be  well  on  his  way  home. 

Within  a  week's  time  Passe  Rose  was  no 
more  to  be  spared  than  the  thumb  of  one's 
hand.  She  drew  the  water  from  the  spring 
which  ran  into  the  Wurm,  and  made  a  cape  of 
lamb's  wool  for  the  boy  who  watched  the  sheep 
in  the  meadow  below  the  spring ;  she  ground 
the  corn  and  gathered  the  wood,  and  put  such 
savor  into  the  pot  that  to  smell  the  steam  was  to 
long  for  what  was  within.  Her  foot  was  well- 
nigh  healed,  though  she  spared  it  not,  and  the 
goodwife  feared  each  day  to  see  her  go. 

"  How  happens  it,"  she  asked,  "  that  thou 
leavest  thy  mother  if  she  loves  thee  well  ?  " 

"  Never  fear,"  replied  Passe  Rose,  whose 
hand  was  on  the  mill ;  "  it  is  as  I  say." 

Then  once  again :  "  Is  thy  father  in  the  ex 
pedition  with  the  king's  son  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  father,"  said  Passe  Rose,  winding 
the  yarn. 

At  another  time :  "  Is  thy  mother  far  ?  Per 
chance  thou  returnest  where  she  is  ?  " 

"  Between  them  that  love  there  is  no  space," 
said  Passe  Rose. 


PABSE  ROSE.  245 

So  the  woman  bridled  her  tongue  lest  her 
questions  should  drive  the  girl  away. 

Behind  the  house  a  path  led  to  the  spring,  for 
all  the  world  like  the  fay's  pool  in  the  wood  of 
Hesbaye.     Overrunning  the   hollow  whence   it 
flowed,  it  slid  between  the  stones  to  the  river 
just  below  the  ford,  and  where  it  left  the  stones 
for  the  rushes  stood  a  black  tower  which'  the 
Eomans  had  built  before  the  ford    shifted  its 
place.     Its  stones  were  still  firm,  and  a  stairway 
led  to  the  top,  whence  one  could  see  the  river  up 
and  down,  and  a  glint  from  its  surface  across 
the   meadow   beyond   the   bend    till   the   wood 
barred  the  view.     The  woman  of  the  grange  in 
deed  had  no  desire  to  climb  its  stair,  for  the 
walls  of  her  hut,  or  at  most  the  circling  forest, 
bounded  her  world,  and  little  she  cared  to  see 
what   was  beyond.     Her   husband  would  come 
soon  enough  without  spying  him  out  from  afar. 
Moreover,  the  tower  was  of  heathen  construction, 
and  the  children  were  warned  against  looking 
even  in  its  door  for  fear  of  some  evil  imp  that 
might  dwell  within.     But  all  the  thoughts  of 
Passe  Rose  were  of  that  beyond  the  wood  hori 
zon,  and  it  eased  her  heart  to  stand  on  the  tow 
er's  top  and  follow  the  river's  flow  as  far  as  she 
could  see. 

Having  filled,  one  evening,  her  jar  at  the  pool, 
she  followed  the  rill  to  the  stream,  and  entered 


246  PASSE  HOSE. 

the  door,  dark  as  a  wolf's  mouth,  for  the  arch 
was  low,  and,  because  of  the  winding  stair,  no 
light  came  from  above.  The  sun  was  behind  the 
trees  shooting  beams  of  red  light,  like  the  fingers 
of  a  mighty  hand,  through  the  openings,  and  a 
thin  mist  lay  on  the  water  beneath.  As  she 
looked  a  company  of  travelers  came  to  the  ford, 
and  halted  on  the  farther  side.  Presently  one 
pricked  his  horse  forward  into  the  Wurm  and 
passed  over,  but  the  second,  a  monk,  following 
after  on  his  mule,  got  no  farther  than  mid 
stream,  for  there  the  beast  stopped,  and  neither 
blows  nor  coaxings  would  prevail  upon  it  to  ad 
vance  or  retreat.  The  robe  of  its  rider  trailed 
in  the  water,  the  current  foamed  about  its  legs, 
when  a  third  person  strode  into  the  stream,  and 
lifting  the  monk  in  his  arms  bore  him  safely 
over.  Passe  Rose,  watching  this  scene,  sprang 
suddenly  to  her  feet.  If  the  arms  which  grasped 
so  fat  a  monk  thus  easily  were  not  those  which 
had  borne  her  from  the  press  at  the  exposure 
of  the  relics,  then  her  eyes  deceived  her.  De 
scending  the  stairs  in  leaps,  she  ran  along  the 
bank,  and  reached  the  ford  in  time  to  see  Fried- 
gis  wading  the  river  with  the  beasts  of  burden, 
the  monk  of  Immaburg  mounting  his  mule, 
and  the  prior  of  St.  Servais  chafing  at  the 
delay.  Then  the  three  resumed  their  journey. 
Passe  Rose  waited  till  they  had  gone,  then  stole 


PASSE  ROSE.      .  247 

from  her  hiding-place.  There  they  were,  on  the 
road  to  Aix,  already  indistinct  in  the  shadows, 
and  now  beyond  sight  and  hearing.  An  over 
whelming  desire  to  follow  them  seized  her.  She 
walked  slowly  along  the  road  under  the  mastery 
of  a  presentiment  she  could  not  resist.  Why 
try  to  ?  What  had  she  to  do  with  those  behind, 
—  with  the  water-jar  at  the  pool  ?  Her  business 
was  with  these,  at  the  end  of  that  road  stretch 
ing  before  her.  It  were  better  to  go  on  —  nay, 
she  must.  The  very  certainty  of  it  was  a  satis 
faction.  She  stopped  suddenly,  and  ran  back 
with  all  her  speed.  The  time  was  not  yet  come. 
Some  day  she  should  follow  that  road  to  its  end. 
When  that  time  came  it  would  be  in  vain  to 
resist.  "  Yes,  certainly,  it  will  come,"  she  said, 
lifting  the  jar  to  her  shoulder. 

After  this  encounter  an  uneasy  feeling  ha 
rassed  her.  Death  itself  was  not  so  certain  as 
this  something  near  at  hand.  The  sense  of  it 
made  her  heart  stand  still  and  the  spindle  drop 
from  her  fingers  ;  it  struck  her  like  a  chill  in 
the  middle  of  the  night,  in  broad  day.  "  Oh, 
my  Gui,"  she  repeated  under  her  breath,  terri 
fied.  Yet  never  once  did  she  imagine  that  her 
lover  had  forgotten  her.  There  were  times 
when  she  was  happier  than  she  had  ever  been 
before.  The  bitterness  with  which  she  had 
thrown  down  the  holy  image  in  her  chamber  and 


248  PASSE  ROSE. 

cursed  the  altar  in  the  chapel  of  Immaburg  had 
left  her ;  sometimes  it  seemed  as  if  God  were  in 
her  heart.  She  went  now  often  to  the  ford,  to 
gaze  at  that  road  she  was  one  day  so  sure  to  fol 
low.  She  stopped  midway  in  the  wood  path,  as 
often  too  she  started  from  her  sleep  —  did  any 
one  call  her  ?  No,  the  time  was  not  yet  come. 

One  day  she  sat  in  the  doorway  combing  the 
washed  wool.  Behind  her  the  woman  of  the 
house  was  hanging  the  rovings  on  a  stick  sus 
pended  at  either  end  from  the  rafters.  The 
odor  of  the  fleece  filled  the  room,  so  that  Passe 
Rose  had  seated  herself  where  the  air  was  fresh. 
The  woman  was  talking  of  the  approaching  fete 
at  Aix.  "  Of  what  use  to  us  are  all  these  treas 
ures,"  she  was  saying,  "  since  they  serve  only  to 
increase  the  price  of  everything?  It  were  bet 
ter  to  leave  them  to  the  Huns.  More  than  a 
thousand  horses,  they  say,  were  left  down  there 
in  the  marshes.  My  husband  was  forced  to  fur 
nish  one,  a  fine  colt  that  is  now  doubtless  food 
for  vultures,  and  he  will  come  back  empty- 
handed,  for  this  treasure  is  not  for  us.  They 
will  make  pictures  of  little  stones  in  the  church 
the  king  is  building.  Hast  thou  seen  these  pic 
tures  ?  I  saw  one  in  the  church  of  St.  Marcel- 
lus.  The  mantle  of  the  martyr  is  of  little  stones, 
of  gold  and  silver  and  red  garnet.  But  what 
avails  it  to  shed  blood  for  treasures  if  a  silver 


PASSE  ROSE.  249 

sou  is  worth  no  more  than  twenty  deniers  ?  Let 
us  keep  our  husbands  and  our  horses,  and  leave 
the  Huns  their  gold." 

"  In  my  country  they  have  many  such  pic 
tures,"  said  Passe  Kose  with  an  air  of  superior 
ity. 

"  And  all  the  young  girls  in  thy  country  wear 
collars  of  gold,"  rejoined  the  woman,  vexed. 

"  Nay,"  said  Passe  Rose,  the  color  mounting 
to  her  cheeks.  "  The  collar  is  not  mine  own. 
But  if  thou  wilt  thou  mayst  have  my  anklet," 
unfastening  it  as  she  spoke  and  offering  it  to  the 
woman  ;  for  in  divesting  herself  of  all  Werdric 
had  given  her,  she  had  forgotten  her  anklets. 
"  It  is  of  beaten  gold  ;  my  father  gave  it  me." 

"  If  thy  father  gave  it  thee,"  said  the  latter, 
ashamed,  but  weighing  it  in  her  hand,  "  it  were 
certainly  dear  to  thee." 

"  Thou  mayst  have  it  and  welcome,"  replied 
Passe  Kose. 

"  Nay,"  said  the  woman,  giving  it  back,  "  if 
thou  lovest  it  "  — 

"  I  love  it  not,"  said  Passe  Rose. 

The  woman  looked  at  her  curiously.  The 
anklet  shone  in  the  wool  where  she  had  placed 
it.  "  If  thou  wilt  not  wear  it,  I  will  put  it  in  my 
chest,  the  daws  are  such  thieves,"  she  said,  open 
ing  the  lid.  "  The  key  is  at  my  girdle  and  thou 
mayst  have  it  when  thou  wilt." 


250  PASSE  HOSE. 

Passe  Rose  made  no  reply.  The  daws  peeped 
from  the  rabbit-burrows  in  the  hedge,  their 
gray  ear-coverts  and  black  plumage  shining  in 
the  sun.  The  comb  flashed  back  and  forth  in 
the  white  wool.  Suddenly  it  fell  from  Passe 
Kose's  hand  to  the  floor,  and  she  rose  to  her  feet 
with  a  suppressed  cry.  Over  the  hedge,  far 
down  the  road,  the  form  of  a  woman  appeared. 
Passe  Kose  stood  still,  only  trembling,  the  wool 
about  her  feet.  A  fire  seemed  burning  in  her 
breast.  She  walked  slowly  down  the  slope  to 
the  hedge,  then  she  began  to  run,  her  eyes  fixed 
on  the  short,  thick  figure  advancing  with  the 
uncertain  gait  she  knew  so  well.  As  she  ap 
proached,  the  woman  stopped,  gazing  at  her  sus 
piciously.  Passe  Rose  ceased  running  and  began 
to  walk  again,  then  stopped  also.  The  fire  in  her 
breast  had  become  like  ice.  It  was  Jeanne  — 
yet  it  was  not  Jeanne.  The  latter  still  eyed  her 
uneasily.  Passe  Rose  advanced  a  step ;  she  en 
deavored  to  speak,  but  could  not. 

"  Hail,  little  dove,"  said  Jeanne  timidly. 

At  the  sound  of  this  voice  Passe  Rose  trem 
bled  again.  One  would  say  these  two  feared 
each  other.  "  Mother  —  little  mother,"  whis 
pered  Passe  Rose. 

A  momentary  gleam  of  recollection  flashed  in 
Jeanne's  sunken  eyes.  "  Hush,"  she  said,  glan 
cing  nervously  about  her,  "  I  am  no  mother.  If 


PASSE  HOSE.  251 

I  were  a  mother  I  should  find  my  child  —  my 
bowels  yearn  for  her,  but  being  no  mother  I  can 
not  see  where  she  is.  She  was  of  thy  height. 
They  say  that  if  a  string  be  stretched  before  the 
door  at  night-fall  —  I  have  the  string  here  in  my 
wallet,"  —  her  fingers  fumbled  at  the  pouch,  — 
"  but  the  door  is  lost." 

"  Come,"  said  Passe  Kose,  drawing  her  by  the 
hand  which  still  held  hers.  Some  stranger  soul 
which  knew  her  not  seemed  to  tenant  this  body 
so  familiar  and  so  dear  to  her.  She  wished  to 
clasp  it  against  her  breast,  but  dared  not. 
"  Come,"  she  repeated  irresolutely. 

"Willingly.  Thou  hast  a  good  face,"  said 
Jeanne,  looking  wistfully  into  her  eyes.  "  Is 
there  perchance  a  little  cake  in  the  oven  ?  " 

Passe  Kose  did  not  reply  ;  the  words  filled  her 
throat.  Her  mother  was  hungry. 

They  walked  together  side  by  side,  Passe  Kose 
looking  straight  before  her.  Jeanne,  who  had 
not  yet  withdrawn  her  hand,  stole  from  time  to 
time  a  timid  glance  at  the  girl's  face.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  hand  lying  so  passive  in  that  of  Passe 
Kose  recognized  what  the  spirit  could  not,  as  if 
the  touch  of  the  girl's  fingers  awakened  sense- 
impressions  to  which  the  mind  could  not  respond, 
yet  which  soothed  it,  producing  a  feeling  of  con 
tentment  and  ease. 

"  It  is  my  mother,"  said  Passe  Rose   to  the 


252  PASSE  ROSE. 

woman  who  stood  in  the  doorway  watching 
them. 

Jeanne's  face  shone  with  pleasure.  "  Foolish 
little  one,"  she  said  in  a  supplicating  voice,  "  let 
her  think  so  if  she  will ;  it  can  do  no  harm." 
She  hesitated.  "  I  am  no  beggar.  If  ever  thou 
should st  pass  by  Maestricht,  ask  for  the  gold 
smith  of  St.  Servais.  I  will  give  thee  a  little 
cheese  such  as  the  abbot  loves,  —  four  every  year 
I  send  to  the  abbot,  and  six  to  the  king." 

"  Enter,"  said  Passe  Rose.  It  was  more  hu 
miliating  to  her  to  see  Jeanne  receiving  succor 
than  to  have  asked  for  it  herself.  She  drew  her 
to  the  table  and  set  before  her  some  wheaten 
cakes  and  a  cup  of  goat's  milk,  of  which  Jeanne 
partook  eagerly.  In  the  satisfaction  of  her  hun 
ger  she  lost  all  sense  of  the  presence  of  others, 
bending  over  the  platter  and  munching  the  dry 
cakes  from  which  she  could  not  take  her  eyes. 
When  she  had  finished,  she  glanced  nervously 
about  the  room  till  she  found  Passe  Rose  ;  then 
she  smiled. 

"  Come,"  said  Passe  Rose,  "  it  is  time  to  rest." 
Forcing  her  gently  to  the  bed,  she  made  her  lie 
down  and  threw  over  her  a  coverlet  of  wool. 
Jeanne  submitted  without  remonstrance,  but 
kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon  Passe  Rose,  who  sat 
down  beside  her. 

"  To  sleep  one  must  close  one's  eyes,"  said  the 


PASSE  ROSE.  253 

latter.  Jeanne  shut  her  eyes.  Presently  she 
opened  them  again,  and,  reaching  out  her  hand, 
drew  Passe  Rose's  face  to  hers. 

"  To-morrow  we  will  search  —  for  her  —  to 
gether,"  she  whispered. 

"  Aye,  to-morrow,"  replied  Passe  Rose. 

Satisfied,  Jeanne  closed  her  eyes  again,  hold 
ing  the  girl's  dress  fast  in  her  hand.  Gradually 
the  tired  body  asserted  its  claims;  the  mouth 
opened,  the  lids  parted  and  ceased  to  tremble, 
the  smile  disappeared  from  the  face.  Sleep 
seemed  to  increase  its  age  and  despair.  But 
Passe  Rose  saw  in  it  only  the  work  of  her  own 
hand :  she  had  furrowed  those  wrinkles  and 
filled  them  with  tears ;  she  had  blanched  those 
cheeks  and  driven  recollection  from  those  eyes. 
Releasing  herself  from  the  hand  which  still  held 
her,  she  crossed  the  room  on  tiptoe  to  the  woman, 
who  looked  in  silent  wonder. 

"  She  shall  have  my  place  this  night  in  the 
bed,"  said  Passe  Rose,  pointing  to  Jeanne.  "  To 
morrow  we  will  go  hence." 

"  Thy  mother  is  "  —  The  woman  tapped  her 
forehead  with  her  finger. 

A  gleam  of  anger  shone  in  Passe  Rose's  eyes. 
"  Nay,"  she  replied,  struggling  with  her  tears,  / 
u  her  heart  grieves  her." 

u  Be  at  ease,"  said  the  woman,  assuringly. 
"  She  shall  rest  here  till  my  husband  comes." 


254  PASSE  ROSE. 

"  Thou  shalt  keep  the  anklet,  and  I  will  give 
thee  its  mate." 

"  Nay,"  remonstrated  the  woman  indignantly, 
"  that  were  "  — 

"  'Sh,"  said  Passe  Rose ;  and  she  went  to  the 
bedside  and  sat  down  again.  She  thought  no 
more  of  the  road  to  Aix.  All  those  forms 
which  had  filled  her  imagination  —  Gui,  Agnes 
of  Solier,  the  prior,  Friedgis,  and  the  rest  — 
had  become  as  dreams.  She  saw  nothing  but 
Jeanne. 

All  the  afternoon  Jeanne  slept,  and  Passe 
Rose  sat  motionless  beside  her.  Night  came, 
the  firelight  danced  on  the  smoke-stained  rafters, 
and  she  had  not  moved.  "  I  have  brewed  for 
thy  mother  some  wine  of  mulberry,"  whispered 
the  woman.  "  Do  thou  hold  my  babe  while  I 
fetch  the  water  from  the  spring."  Passe  Rose 
started.  Her  thoughts  were  far  away  in  the  gar 
den  at  Maestricht.  It  seemed  to  her  that  once 
within  its  walls  Jeanne  would  be  well  again. 

"  I  will  fetch  the  water,  lest  the  child  cry," 
she  replied,  taking  the  jar  and  lifting  it  to  her 
shoulder.  The  night  was  soft  and  clear.  As 
she  went  down  the  path  she  calculated  the  dis 
tance  to  Maestricht.  "  If  her  strength  does  not 
fail  her,  we  will  go  to-morrow,"  she  said  to  her 
self,  thinking  of  Jeanne.  She  dipped  the  jar  to 
its  brim  in  the  pool  —  "  To-morrow,  to-morrow," 


PASSE  ROSE.  255 

the  gurgling  water  repeated.  Would  the  day  be 
fine  ?  She  set  the  jar  on  the  moss,  ran  to  the 
river  and  up  the  tower  stair.  Above  the  forest 
the  sky  glittered  with  stars.  "  To-morrow,"  she 
said,  half  aloud. 

Passe  Eose  had  scarcely  crossed  the  threshold 
with  her  jar  when  Jeanne  opened  her  eyes.  She 
looked  straight  upward,  vacantly,  for  a  moment, 
then  raised  herself  on  her  elbow.  The  woman, 
seeing  her  awake,  laid  her  babe  on  the  bed  and 
brought  the  wine.  "  Drink,"  she  said  ;  "  it  will 
refresh  thee.  Art  thou  better?"  Jeanne,  sit 
ting  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  took  the  bowl  in 
both  hands  and  drank.  The  child,  alone  on  the 
bed,  began  to  cry.  At  this  cry  Jeanne  seemed 
to  recollect.  "  Where  is  she  —  thy  daughter  ?  " 
she  asked,  looking  about  the  room  anxiously. 

"  She  hath  gone  to  the  spring  for  water,"  re 
plied  the  woman.  "  In  a  moment  she  will  come." 

Jeanne  eyed  her  suspiciously.  The  woman 
took  the  bowl  from  her  hand,  then,  loosening  her 
robe,  gave  the  child  her  breast.  This  sight 
seemed  to  affect  Jeanne  profoundly.  Her  hand 
wandered  over  her  bosom,  and  her  lips  trembled. 

"  Lie  down  ;  she  will  come  presently." 

Jeanne  obeyed,  but,  only  half  closing  her  eyes, 
watched  through  the  lashes.  The  child,  satis 
fied,  slept  in  its  mother's  arms.  The  latter  rose 
gently  and  laid  it  on  the  bed.  "  She  sleeps 


256  PASSE  ROSE. 

again,"  thought  she,  looking  at  Jeanne.  No 
sooner  was  her  back  turned  than  Jeanne  arose 
softly,  stealing  to  the  door. 

"  Where  art  thou  going  ?  "  exclaimed  the 
woman,  hearing  her  footsteps  and  hastening  to 
intercept  her. 

"  Stand  aside  !  "  cried  Jeanne.  Her  eyes 
gleamed,  and  her  hands  were  hooked  like  a 
tiger's  claws. 

"  Saints  of  God !  "  gasped  the  woman,  recoil 
ing,  terrified.     Whether  by  chance  or  instinct, 
Jeanne,  spying  the  path  from  the  door  into  the 
wood,  followed  it  without  question.     "  Saints  of 
God ! "  ejaculated  the  woman  as  she  disappeared. 
Passe  Rose  was  issuing  from  the  tower's  arch 
when  she  heard  the  sound  of  some  one  coming 
through  the  wood,  and  suddenly  Jeanne  stood 
before  her.     A  look  so   glad  greeted  her  from 
Jeanne's   eyes   that   she   reached   out  both  her 
hands.     "  Mother,  my  mother,"  she  cried,  strain 
ing  the  trembling  form  to  her  bosom  and  search 
ing  the  eyes  passionately.     It  seemed  to  her  that 
Jeanne  made  a  mighty  effort ;  she  pressed  her 
closer.     "  O  God,  a  little  help  for  my  mother." 
No,  the  task  was  too  great.     She  felt  the  body 
in   her  arms  relax,  as  one  who,  straining  at  a 
burden   he  may  not  lift,  gives  over  exhausted, 
and,  burying  her  face  in  Jeanne's  neck,  she  gave 
way  to  uncontrollable  sobbings. 


PASSE  ROSE.  257 

"  Hush,"  said  Jeanne,  shaken  with  their  vio 
lence.  "Hush,"  she  repeated,  caressing  the 
girl's  hair  and  striving  to  lift  her  face.  "  I  had 
just  now  a  dream.  Listen  while  I  tell  it  thee." 
She  raised  the  head  from  her  shoulder  and 
kissed  the  eyes  as  she  spoke.  Passe  Rose  expe 
rienced  a  strange  sensation  in  contemplating 
Jeanne's  pale  face  —  its  eyes  so  bright  but  hag 
gard,  its  cheeks  so  sunken,  in  feeling  herself  the 
object  of  such  pity  from  a  creature  so  pitiful. 
"  I  dreamed  that  I  returned  to  my  garden  in 
Maestricht.  I  went  in  by  the  little  door  close 
to  the  square,  and  there,  under  the  plum-trees 
which  hug  the  wall,  was  my  daughter."  Passe 
Rose  began  to  smile ;  that  was  her  dream  also. 
"  She  rose  up  to  meet  me.  Come,  let  us  go 
back.  I  will  show  her  to  thee  —  she  is  like  thee 
—  when  thou  seest  her  thou  wilt  love  her  also." 

"  Yes,  let  us  go,"  murmured  Passe  Rose. 

"  I  am  strong,"  continued  Jeanne  eagerly, 
"  if  only  thou  knowest  the  way  "  — 

"  I  know  it.  Is  there  not  a  little  walk  in  thy 
garden  between  the  grass  and  the  shallot  ?  " 

"  True,"  said  Jeanne,  listening  intently,  "  the 
grass  is  on  the  left  hand." 

"  Set  with  wild-cherry  trees,  and  on  the  right 
the  plums  "  — 

"It  is  there  she  sat,"  interrupted  Jeanne, 
"  come.  But  how  knowest  thou  the  place  so 
well  ?  " 


258  PASSE  ROSE. 

"  Hear  me,"  said  Passe  Kose  earnestly.  "  I 
will  lead  thee  to  the  very  place.  Trust  me,  for 
I  know  it  well.  But  the  night  is  now  come,  and 
thou  hast  need  of  more  rest.  See,  how  thy 
limbs  tremble.  To-morrow  "  — 

Jeanne  was  troubled.  "  Show  me  the  way, 
since  thou  knowest  it  so  well,"  she  said. 

"  How  can  I  tell  it  thee  ?   But  to-morrow  "  — 

"  Nay,  if  thou  knowest  it,  surely  "  — 

"And  if  I  show  it  thee,  wilt  thou  wait  till 
the  morrow  ?  "  cried  Passe  Rose. 

"  Aye,  if  thou  showest  it  truly." 

"  Come,"  said  Passe  Rose.  She  took  Jeanne 
by  the  hand  and  led  her  within  the  arch.  "  Hold 
fast  to  my  hand  —  now  —  there  is  a  stair  —  so, 
I  will  help  thee ;  it  is  not  far.  There,  dost 
thou  see  the  river  where  the  stones  make  the 
ripple  ?  The  ford  is  there.  Beyond  the  ford 
is  the  road  we  shall  take.  Art  thou  satisfied  ?  " 

"  Truly,"  said  Jeanne,  following  with  her  eyes 
Passe  Rose's  outstretched  finger,  "  I  believe  thee." 

Passe  Rose  threw  her  arms  about  her  and 
drew  her  close.  "  Thou  mayst  indeed.  I  know 
the  way  well.  We  will  start  with  the  sun.  We 
shall  find  her.  She  will  rise  to  greet  thee,  for 
she  loves  thee." 

"  Nay,  it  is  I  who  loved." 

"  Did  not  thy  daughter  love  thee  ? "  stam 
mered  Passe  Rose. 

"  Aye,  but  a  fay  bewitched  her." 


PASSE  ROSE.  259 

"  The  spell  is  broken,"  said  Passe  Eose.  "  She 
will  love  thee,  —  I  swear  to  thee  she  will  love 
thee.  She  will  hold  thee  as  I  do  in  her  arms ; 
she  will  leave  thee  no  more  ;  the  birds  will  sing 
in  the  garden  ;  we  will  sit  there  in  the  sun,  and 
listen  to  the  chant  in  the  church  of  St.  Sebas 
tian.  Dost  thou  not  remember  that  she  loved 
thee?  Though  she  said  it  not,  yet  she  loved 
thee  ;  when  thou  findest  her  again,  she  will  tell 
thee,  —  her  tongue  will  be  loosed." 

Jeanne,  feeling  the  heart  beating  next  her 
cheek  and  the  arms  fast  about  her,  watching 
now  the  eyes,  now  the  stars  bending  above  her, 
listened  in  silent  delight  to  the  words  murmured 
in  her  ear.  Dim  recollections  came  back  like 
the  snatches  of  familiar  songs.  As  a  child 
lulled  to  slumber  she  sighed  from  time  to  time, 
and  when  Passe  Rose  ceased  and  stooped  to 
kiss  her,  she  was  asleep. 

And  when  the  child  sleeps  on  its  mother's 
breast,  does  not  the  mother  dream  of  the  stature 
to  which  those  tiny  limbs  shall  grow,  of  the 
deeds  they  shall  do  ?  Oh,  of  so  many  things ! 
So  Passe  Rose  began  to  dream,  to  merge  her 
life  in  that  of  the  old  mother  in  her  arms,  re 
turning  to  all  she  had  cast  away,  and  casting 
from  her  all  she  had  yearned  to  possess. 

Look !  a  flash  of  light  on  the  edge  of  the 
wood.  Along  the  bank,  between  the  trees  and 


260  PASSE  HOSE. 

the  river,  it  shines,  and  vanishes,  and  shines 
again.  Making  a  pillow  of  her  cloak,  Passe 
Eose  laid  Jeanne's  head  gently  upon  it,  and 
stood  up,  shuddering.  The  light  came  nearer. 
She  watched  it  glimmering  under  the  branches, 
fascinated.  Something  told  her  that  the  hour 
had  come. 

XIX. 

As  she  looked,  two  forms  emerged  into  the 
starlight,  approaching  the  tower  from  the  ford. 
One  was  slender,  with  a  long  robe  whose  hood 
concealed  the  face;  the  other  wore  a  casque 
rimmed  with  metal.  It  was  this  casque  which 
flashed  in  the  starbeams. 

"  This  should  be  the  place,"  said  one,  as  they 
passed  out  of  sight  under  the  tower  wall.  Passe 
Kose  knew  the  voice  well,  —  the  prior  of  St. 
Servais.  "  Look  within,"  she  heard  him  say. 

The  answer  came  up  the  stair :  "  Bah !  a 
rat's  hole.  But  thy  maid  is  not  here." 

"  I  would  I  were  as  sure  of  the  Greek,"  re 
joined  the  prior. 

"  He  will  come,  he  will  come,"  replied  the 
other. 

"  If  he  left  Pavia  the  same  day  with  thee,  he 
should  be  here  now." 

"  He  will  not  fail,  he  will  not  fail,"  said  the 
soldier  confidently. 


PASSE  ROSE.  261 

"  What  vexes  me,"  pursued  the  prior,  "  is 
that  I  have  no  message  from  the  duke.  He 
promised  to  send  me  tidings  by  one  of  the  clerks 
the  pope  sent  the  king.  All  is  ready.  Beyond 
the  Elbe  a  spark  will  kindle  the  fire,  and  once 
lighted  it  will  spread  throughout  Saxony.  At 
its  signal  the  emir  will  cross  the  Ebro.  Pepin 
should  be  here  now,  and  in  his  absence  the 
Lombards  will  join  the  duke.  The  fleet  has 
set  sail  for  Tarentum,  if  only  thy  Greek  "  — 

"  By  heaven,"  retorted  the  other  hotly,  "  if 
he  fails  I  will  take  his  place  myself." 

"  And  taste  the  girl's  knife  ?  "  sneered  the 
prior. 

His  companion  laughed.  "  Believest  thou  she 
will  have  the  courage  to  strike  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  If  she  but  scratch  him,  it  is  enough,"  said 
the  prior.  "  I  have  a  poison  for  the  blade.' 
The  plan  is  simple.  Bid  the  Greek  not  to  strike 
her  till  after  the  king  is  slain,  till  he  is  about  to 
leave  her.  She  must  have  time  to  use  her  own 
weapon.  Though  she  strike  not  first,  she  will 
defend  herself.  If  thy  Greek  can  kill  a  king, 
he  can  stab  a  girl  in  the  dark;  and  if  she 
scratch  him  not  before  he  is  done,  then  a  wild 
cat  hath  no  use  for  its  claws." 

"  By  the  gods,"  said  the  soldier,  laughing,  "  it 
is  so  well  conceived.  They  will  destroy  each 
other.  I  laugh  whenever  I  think  of  it.  So  she 


262  PASSE  ROSE. 

hath  claws,  thy  wildcat.  Hath  she  whiskers  also 
on  her  chin  ?  " 

"  One  would  say  an  angel  of  God,  a  toy  to 
play  with,  her  face  hath  such  sweetness  in  it," 
replied  the  prior.  "  Wait,  thou  shalt  see." 
There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  and  Passe  Rose 
slid  softly  to  her  knees,  holding  her  breath.  Re 
inforced  by  the  echoing  walls,  every  word  seemed 
uttered  in  her  ear.  "  I  would  I  knew  the  reason 
of  her  haste,"  muttered  the  prior.  "She  said 
the  third  night.  Hist !  some  one  comes.  It  is 
she." 

Passe  Rose  raised  her  head  softly  above  the 
parapet.  Two  others  were  approaching  along 
the  bank,  a  woman  and  a  man.  She  could  hear 
their  footsteps  in  the  dry  leaves.  At  the  edge 
of  the  wood  the  woman  stopped,  whispered  some 
thing  to  her  companion,  then  advanced  alone 
from  under  the  trees.  Passe  Rose  heard  the 
prior  greeting  her. 

"  Who  is  with  thee  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  will  tell  thee  later.  Come  within  ;  the 
night  grows  bright,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Rothilde !  "  said  Passe  Rose,  recognizing 
the  voice  of  the  Saxon  who  sat  beside  Agnes  of 
Solier  in  the  supper-room  at  Immaburg,  and 
whose  conversation  she  had  overheard  in  the 
wagon  at  the  ford. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  tower,  Rothilde,  per 
ceiving  the  soldier,  paused,  and  drew  back. 


PASSE  ROSE.  263 

"  A  friend,"  said  the  prior  ;  "  enter.  What 
brings  thee  here?  The  Greek  is  not  come." 

"  I  thought  surely  it  was  he,"  murmured  Ro- 
thilde,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  prior's  companion. 

"  Truly,  the  face  of  a  saint,"  said  the  soldier 
to  himself. 

Impatient,  the  prior  repeated  his  question. 
"  Thou  saidst  the  third  night,"  he  whispered. 

Rothilde  stepped  from  the  door  into  the 
shadow,  where  she  could  observe  the  prior's 
face.  "  Listen,"  she  said,  watching  him.  "  Gui 
of  Tours  was  hurt  to-day  by  the  boar  in  the 
wood  of  —  Hark !  "  she  exclaimed,  turning  her 
head. 

"  A  bat's  wing,"  said  the  prior,  listening  also. 

"  I  was  there,"  she  continued.  "  His  corselet 
was  loosened  to  give  room  to  breathe,  and  within 
were  the  papers  I  sent  thee  by  the  monk  who 
brought  the  missal  to  Immaburg  for  the  queen." 

The  soldier  uttered  an  oath. 

"  Peace,"  said  the  prior ;  "  what  papers  ?  " 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  "  replied  the  girl,  her 
eyes  riveted  on  the  prior's  face,  over  which  a 
pallor  was  spreading.  "A  clerk  from  Bene- 
ventum  gave  them  to  me,  and  I  sent  them  by  the 
monk,  as  thou  badest  me.  Have  they  to  do 
with  the  death  of  the  king?  "  she  asked  boldly. 

The  prior  sought  in  vain  to  find  the  girl's  eyes 
in  the  darkness.  "  Nay,"  he  answered  quickly, 
"  they  were  of  other  matters." 


2G4  PASSE  ROSE. 

"Thou  liest,"  thought  Rothilde  to  herself. 
But  she  gave  a  sigh  of  relief.  "  God  be 
praised !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  felt  the  cord  at 
my  throat.  When  I  saw  them  the  seal  was  un 
broken.  None  gave  heed  to  them,  —  they  were 
seeking  the  wound ;  a  moment  more  and  I  had 
them  safe  in  my  hand ;  but  they  bore  him  away, 
thrusting  the  women  aside.  I  remembered  them 
well  because  of  the  seal "  — 

"  Thou  gavest  them  to  the  monk  ?  "  inter 
rupted  the  prior.  She  saw  that  his  composure 
was  affected. 

"  Aye,  but  after  setting  out  he  returned  again, 
—  for  what  purpose  I  know  not.  I  saw  him 
after  supper,  with  a  dancing-girl.  Knowest 
thou  one  called  Passe  Rose  ?  The  captain  said 
she  was  of  Maestricht.  When  I  saw  the  papers 
in  his  bosom,  I  said  to  myself  '  the  girl  got  them 
of  the  monk  and  gave  them  to  her  lover.'  She 
might  well  bewitch  a  monk,  having  first  be 
witched  a  captain.  Ask  Agnes  of  Solier,  who 
trembles  now  for  her  morning-gift.  But  if  the 
papers  matter  nothing  —  God  !  I  shall  sleep 
sweetly  to-night;  I  thought  to  be  strangled  in 
bed." 

The  prior  laughed  nervously.  "  Why  shouldst 
thou  fear  ?  The  papers  do  not  concern  thee. 
Thy  time  is  not  come." 

"  Liar  !  "  thought  the  girl,  watching  his  face. 
"  I  will  give  thee  this  night  to  the  king." 


PASSE  ROSE.  265 

"  Come,  let  us  go,"  said  Sergius,  raising  his 
hood. 

"  Wait !  "  whispered  Rothilde,  laying  hold  of 
his  arm.  "  Thou  sayest  the  papers  put  us  in  no 
jeopardy  ;  a  stone  is  lifted  from  my  heart.  But 
I  said  I  would  tell  thee  who  is  with  me." 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  asked  the  prior,  with  ill-dis 
guised  impatience. 

"Fool!"  thought  Rothilde,  "thou  art  in 
haste."  Then  aloud :  "  Dost  thou  remember  the 
footsteps  we  heard  in  the  chapel,  in  the  church 
of  St.  Marcellus  ?  "  The  prior,  turning  back, 
scrutinized  her  face.  "  There  was  one  listening, 

—  thy  servant,  the  Saxon  serf.     I  saw  his  eyes, 

—  like  a  ferret's.     I  watched  to  see  whither  he 
would  go.     He  ran  before  me  to  the  palace,  ask 
ing  for  the  king.     Blessed   be  God,  the  king 
slept  last  night  at  Frankenburg.     But  this  morn 
ing  the  Saxon  came  again,  asking  for  the  queen. 
The  guard  refused  him  entrance,  for  he  would 
not  tell  his  errand  "  — 

"By  hell's  demons,"  exclaimed  the  soldier, 
"  hast  thou  him  here  ?  " 

"  For  what  reason  should  I  bring  him  ?  "  said 
the  girl  significantly. 

For  a  moment  the  three  were  silent.  The 
soldier,  looking  at  the  prior,  drew  his  sword. 

"  Go,"  said  the  latter  gently. 

"  Be  not  rash ;  he  is  brave,"  whispered  the 
girl. 


266  PASSE  ROSE. 

"Tut,"  said  the  other,  hiding  his  weapon 
within  his  cloak,  "  I  will  bring  thee  his  tongue 
on  my  sword's  point." 

Peering  above  the  parapet,  Passe  Eose  saw 
him  cross  the  open  space  and  disappear  in  the 
wood.  Her  thoughts  whirled  in  her  head  like 
leaves  caught  in  the  wind  and  carried  up  to  van 
ish  no  one  knows  where.  The  papers,  —  those 
she  had  got  from  the  monk,  and  the  other  found 
on  the  road  by  the  abbey  pond,  —  she  had 
missed  them  indeed,  but  since  that  night  when 
her  love  stood  revealed  she  had  thought  no  more 
of  them  than  of  her  collar  or  anklets.  They 
must  have  fallen  from  her  bosom  when  she 
swooned  in  the  chapel  at  Immaburg,  and  her 
lover  had  taken  them.  The  death  of  the  king  ! 
Had  she  then  unwittingly  brought  her  lover  into 
peril?  A  fear  overspread  her  thought  and 
dulled  her  power  to  reason.  She  remembered 
no  more  Jeanne,  the  garden  by  the  square  of  St. 
Sebastian.  '•  Gui  of  Tours  was  hurt  to-day  by 
the  boar  in  the  wood,"  —  these  words  she  re 
peated  to  herself  over  and  over,  as  if  not  under 
standing  them,  seeing  all  the  while  Gui  stretched 
before  her  on  the  trampled  grass,  his  corselet 
torn  open,  and  within,  the  papers,  more  to  be 
feared  than  the  boar's  tusk.  Forgetting  all  else, 
she  rose  up,  trembling  in  every  limb.  Jeanne 
was  still  sleeping,  her  head  on  the  cloak.  Be- 


PASSE  ROSE.  267 

low,  everything  was  silent.  Eothilde,  leaning 
against  the  wall,  her  eyes  closed,  still  held  the 
prior's  arm.  Then  a  horse  neighed  in  the  wood  ; 
there  was  a  cry,  an  oath  —  and  silence  again. 
At  this  cry  Rothilde  drew  a  quick  breath  and 
opened  her  eyes.  A  pleasure  so  fierce  shone  in 
them  that  the  prior  recoiled. 

"  What  ails  thee  ?  "  she  said.  "  Thou  desir, 
est  the  life  of  a  king.  I  wished  only  for  that  of 
a  serf.  The  blood  of  a  slave  for  that  of  a  king, 
—  that  is  not  much."  Her  voice  was  insolent 
with  joy,  as  of  one  drunk  with  wine.  "  Bring 
me  now  thy  Greek,  and  I  will  show  him  the  way 
to  the  king's  bed." 

"  She-devil !  "  muttered  the  prior  to  himself. 

The  girl  laughed  and  let  go  his  arm.  With 
out,  the  soldier  was  wiping  his  blade  on  the  grass. 

"Is  it  done?"  she  asked. 

He  held  up  his  sword  in  the  light.  She  made 
no  reply,  and  entered  the  wood  alone.  The 
horses  neighed  as  she  approached.  Near  by,  a 
black  bulk  lay  in  the  reeds.  She  stopped  and 
listened,  advanced  a  step,  then,  hurrying  for 
ward,  stooped,  searching  with  her  hand.  Aye, 
it  was  done.  Her  course  was  free.  Now  for 
the  king!  Rising  to  her  feet,  she  loosed  the 
rein  from  the  branch.  The  trembling  horse 
snorted  with  terror.  "  Peace,  peace,"  she  whis 
pered,  laying  her  cheek  to  its  nostril,  and  hug- 


268  PASSE  ROSE. 

ging  its  neck  with  her  arms.  "Now,  for  the 
king  !  " 

"  Said  I  not  the  duke  had  messages  for  thee  ?  " 
the  soldier  was  saying  to  Sergius.  "  Ask  her 
where  this  captain  is  to  be  found." 

"  Nay,  it  will  alarm  her,"  replied  the  prior, 
"  she  said  at  Frankenburg."  Notwithstanding 
Rothilde  had  come  to  apprise  him  of  the  miscar 
riage  of  the  papers,  an  involuntary  mistrust  tor 
mented  him.  Had  Friedgis  indeed  followed  him 
to  the  church  of  St.  Marcellus?  It  was  not 
probable.  Some  other  motive  had  prompted  a 
vengeance  so  swift.  How  her  eyes  shone  when 
he  cried  from  the  wood!  "She  has  tricked 
me,"  thought  the  prior.  Like  the  Roman  em 
peror,  he  feared  his  own  legionaries.  As  for 
the  papers,  doubtless  she  was  right ;  the  captain 
had  got  them  from  Passe  Kose.  He  recollected 
the  captain's  inquiry  for  the  goldsmith's  daugh 
ter  at  the  abbey,  and  the  presence  of  the  latter 
with  Brother  Dominic  at  Immaburg  explained 
everything.  "  Cursed  monk  !  "  he  muttered, 
half  aloud. 

"  Waste  no  words  on  him,"  said  his  compan 
ion  ;  "let  us  seek  the  captain.  There  is  yet 
time.  She  said  the  seal  was  unbroken.  A 
wounded  man  hath  always  need  of  a  priest.  If 
he  knows  the  content  of  the  letters,  which  is  not 
probable,  and  the  boar's  work  is  not  well  done 


PASSE  ROSE.  269 

—  a  wound  often  reopens.  If  he  knows  noth 
ing,  we  will  have  them  by  fair  means.  If  he 
hath  given  them  to  others,  it  is  already  too  late 
to  fly.  Come,  let  us  go." 

"  Where  is  she  ?  "  asked  the  prior.  His  nat 
ural  energy  seemed  paralyzed. 

"  To  the  devil  with  her  ;  time  presses." 

"  Hush  !  she  comes." 

Leading  her  horse  by  the  bridle-rein,  Eothilde 
advanced  from  the  wood.  Above,  Passe  Rose, 
standing  erect  in  the  full  starlight,  dared  not 
move. 

"  Wilt  thou  go  with  us,"  said  Sergius.  He 
appeared  unwilling  to  lose  sight  of  her  for  an 
instant,  and  she  read  his  disquietude  in  his  face. 

"  With  thee  !  Where  is  thy  wit  ?  "  she  ex- 
claimed.  "  What !  a  priest  and  a  girl  to  be 
seen  entering  the  gate  alone  at  midnight? 
Moreover,  I  rode  from  Frankenburg  at  the 
queen's  command,  to  tell  Agnes  of  Solier  of  her 
lover's  hurt.  I  had  a  page  for  company,"  she 
laughed,  "  and  left  him  on  the  way.  Perchance 
I  shall  find  him  again,  for  I  must  join  the 
queen." 

"  Come,"  whispered  the  soldier  impatiently. 

"  Thou  dost  not  fear  to  ride  alone  ?  "  said  the 
prior,  reluctant  to  leave  her,  and  eying  her  sus 
piciously.  She  shrugged  her  shoulders  disdain 
fully.  « Have  a  care,  then,  to  thy  face,"  he 
said.  "  Farewell." 


270  PASSE  ROSE. 

When  they  were  gone,  Rothilde  led  the  horse 
to  the  tower,  sitting  down  on  a  stone  near  the 
door,  while  the  horse  browsed  beside  her  among 
the  reeds.  She  could  scarce  wait  to  hear  the 
hoofs  on  the  distant  road.  She  proposed  to 
take  the  other,  the  one  skirting  the  city  through 
the  wood.  "  Robert  of  Tours  returns  from  Hun 
gary  to-morrow  with  Pepin.  In  an  hour  I  will 
tell  the  king."  This  was  all  her  thought.  She 
stroked  the  horse's  ears  and  smiled. 

Suddenly,  above  her  head,  something  stirred. 
It  was  Jeanne  turning  in  her  dreams.  "  Aye, 
I  believe  thee,"  said  a  voice ;  "  only  show  me 
first  the  way."  Passe  Rose,  dumb  with  terror, 
knelt  down  and  pressed  Jeanne's  hand.  She 
heard  a  noise  below,  then  on  the  stair,  but  be 
fore  she  could  get  from  her  knees,  or  even  think 
what  she  would  do,  Rothilde  stood  before  her. 

Afterwards  she  could  remember  nothing,  only 
that  she  heard  a  cry  as  of  a  wild  beast,  and  saw 
the  flash  of  a  knife  in  the  girl's  hand.  Now  she 
was  alone,  on  the  edge  of  the  parapet,  panting, 
and  below  in  the  river  something  struggled. 
She  had  grappled  with  the  girl ;  the  knife  was 
now  in  her  own  hand,  and  her  fingers  were  cut. 
Seigneur  !  what  had  she  done  ? 

"  Mother,  little  mother,"  she  whispered, 
stooping  to  Jeanne's  ear.  Jeanne  opened  her 
eyes.  "  The  time  is  come,  —  the  time  is  come." 


PASSE  ROSE.  271 

Jeanne,  sitting  up,  smiled.  "  The  sun  is  not 
yet  up,"  she  said. 

"  It  is  time,"  urged  Passe  Eose,  pulling  her 
by  the  hand  to  her  feet.  Her  mouth  was  set 
and  her  eyes  were  fixed,  like  those  of  the  statue 
in  the  porch  of  St.  Sebastian  indeed.  Down  the 
stair,  along  the  river,  dragging  Jeanne  after 
her,  she  hurried.  "  Oh,  my  Gui !  "  she  mur 
mured. 

"  Thou  art  in  haste,"  said  Jeanne,  half  awake. 
"  But  it  is  well  to  start  before  the  sun,  the  way 
is  so  long." 

"  Aye,  long,"  murmured  Passe  Eose. 

At  the  ford  Jeanne  paused.  "Thou  saidst 
this  way." 

"Nay,  I  swear  to  thee,  this  is  best." 

"I  believe  thee,"  Jeanne  answered  calmly. 
"  Thou  hast  a  good  face,  —  lead  on."  And  the 
two,  close  together,  disappeared  between  the  tall 
trees  hemming,  like  a  giant  hedge,  the  road  to 
Aix. 

XX. 

The  night  was  far  gone  when  Passe  Eose, 
Jeanne's  hand  still  clinging  tightly  to  hers, 
reached  the  city  gate.  Overwhelmed  by  the 
revelations  she  had  heard,  tortured  by  her  fears 
for  Gui,  she  knew  not  what  to  do,  whither  to 


272  PASSE  ROSE. 

go.  Her  heart  aclied  with  trouble  and  sus 
pense.  But  life  perplexed  her  no  more.  All 
was  simple  and  clear.  It  was  for  love's  sake 
she  had  leaped  from  the  wagon,  and  now  fol 
lowed  the  road  she  had  abjured.  It  was  for 
love's  sake  she  would  have  forgotten  love  in  that 
peaceful  garden  whence  peace  had  fled.  It  was 
her  love  which  had  turned  for  solace  to  Jeanne 
—  dear  Jeanne,  whom  she  dragged  along  the 
path  as  a  mother  urges  her  tired  child,  Jeanne 
whom  she  was  deceiving  —  "  Nay,  nay,"  cried 
her  heart,  "  there  is  no  right,  no  wrong,  nothing, 
but  to  reach  him." 

So  the  stream,  issuing  first  from  the  wood, 
runs  aimlessly,  now  east,  now  west,  turned  aside 
by  a  tuft  of  grass,  divided  by  a  root,  dashed  to 
spray  by  a  stone.  Afterwards,  swollen  to  a  flood 
and  conscious  of  its  destiny,  disquieted  no  more 
by  obstacle  or  circuit,  it  floats  unvexed,  know 
ing  that  east  or  west  it  nears  the  sea. 

The  city  was  asleep.  They  followed  the  street 
leading  from  the  gate  to  the  great  square  before 
the  palace.  Jeanne,  deeming  it  to  be  the  square 
of  St.  Sebastian  in  Maestricht,  looked  to  see 
the  tower  and  her  garden  wall.  After  her 
weary  wanderings  the  thought  of  home,  of  find 
ing  there  her  child,  had  given  her  strength  and 
courage.  Disappointed  and  alarmed  by  the 
strange  aspect  of  this  silent  city,  she  began  to 


PASSE  ROSE.  273 

ask  questions,  like  a  child  unreasonable  over 
delay  and  incapable  of  understanding.  Passe 
Rose  answered  these  questions  as  best  she  could, 
saying  she  knew  not  what,  consoling,  encourag 
ing,  promising,  —  how  can  one  explain  every 
thing  to  a  child  ?  —  having  always  before  her 
eyes  the  wound  the  tusk  had  made,  and  in  her 
ears  the  cry  of  Friedgis  from  the  wood. 

Before  the  palace  gate  she  saw  the  guards 
chatting  together.  It  was  said  that  the  Kan 
of  the  Huns  would  come  with  Pepin,  as  a  host 
age,  and  that  a  great  hunt  would  take  place  the 
following  week.  They  would  show  this  pagan 
how  one  amused  one's  self  in  the  woods  of 
France.  Would  he  had  been  with  the  king  to 
day  !  Such  a  boar  was  not  to  be  had  for  the 
whistling.  One  who  had  been  present  when 
the  beast  was  found  dead  beside  the  captain  was 
telling  its  weight  and  the  length  of  its  tusks. 
Passe  Rose  drew  near,  listening. 

"  Was  the  captain  hurt  ?  "  she  asked. 

The  speaker  turned.  He  was  the  Gascon  who 
had  aided  the  captain  in  carrying  her  to  the 
wagon  at  Immaburg. 

"  He  hath  a  slit  in  his  groin  the  length  of  a 
skewer  "  —  then,  seeing  the  girl's  shining  eyes 
between  the  folds  of  her  mantle  :  "  Ho,  pretty 
dear,  thou  art  late  abroad."  And  seizing  her 
by  the  waist,  he  endeavored  to  snatch  away 


274  PASSE  ROSE. 

her  cloak.  Jeanne,  holding  timidly  to  Passe 
Rose's  hand,  suddenly  transformed,  sprang  to 
her  rescue. 

"  Have  a  care  for  the  hag's  claws,"  laughed 
the  others. 

Passe  Rose,  taken  unawares,  struggled  in  the 
embrace  of  her  assailant.  "  May  the  Devil  spit 
me  on  his  fork,"  he  cried,  clasping  her  fast,  but 
unable  to  free  his  neck  from  Jeanne's  arms. 
"  Hold  the  old  witch,"  he  called  to  the  others  ; 
"  her  fingers  are  like  hooks."  Loosing  the  girl's 
waist  suddenly,  he  grasped  her  arms,  and  for 
cing  them  slowly  back,  approached  his  face  to 
hers. 

"  Tell  me  where  the  captain  is,  and  I  will 
give  thee  thy  kiss,"  gasped  Passe  Rose.  In  the 
struggle  her  cloak  had  been  torn  from  her  head, 
and  her  face,  bent  over  backwards,  was  uncov 
ered  to  the  starlight. 

"  The  captain's  demon  !  "  exclaimed  the  Gas 
con,  letting  go  his  hold  and  recoiling. 

But  Passe  Rose  held  fast  to  his  arm.  "  Tell 
me,  —  where  is  he  ?  —  it  is  for  thy  good." 

"  Leave  go  ;  the  captain  is  at  Frankenburg  — 
the  road  is  before  thee —  Ah,  sorceress!  "  And 
wrenching  his  sleeve  from  her  fingers,  he  drew 
back,  signing  himself.  "  Loose  her,"  he  cried 
to  the  others  who  still  held  Jeanne.  "  I  had 
sooner  kiss  the  Devil  himself."  And  drawing 


PASSE  ROSE.  275 

his  sword,  he  brandished  it  in  circles  above  his 
head. 

Jeanne,  set  free,  was  about  to  renew  the  en 
counter.  "  Come,"  said  Passe  Rose,  seizing  her 
hand  and  drawing  her  away.  "  Come,"  she 
whispered,  —  "  come." 

Bewildered  and  out  of  breath,  but  filled  with 
rage,  Jeanne  obeyed  reluctantly,  muttering  to 
herself  and  turning  back  to  shake  her  clenched 
fist.  "  I  will  tell  the  abbot,  —  certainly  I  will 
tell  the  abbot,  —  the  rascals !  " 

"  Hush,"  said  Passe  Rose,  pressing  her  hand 
tighter  and  hurrying  her  away. 

"  Have  we  yet  far  to  go  ?  "  asked  Jeanne. 

"  Not  far,"  replied  Passe  Rose. 

Passing  the  king's  basilica  they  heard  the 
voices  of  the  choir  intoning  the  midnight  chant. 
The  priest,  bowing  before  the  altar,  had  just 
said,  "  Let  us  pray  for  Karle,  king  and  servant 
of  God  ; "  and  the  clerks  were  replying  in  uni 
son,  "O  Christ,  save  Karle."  The  road  forked 
without  the  gate,  but  the  darkness  was  so  in 
tense  that  Passe  Rose  did  not  perceive  it.  As 
they  hurried  on  she  was  almost  trampled  under 
foot  by  a  horse  which  issued  from  the  road 
branching  to  the  right,  and  which  she  had  not 
seen  till  the  form  of  its  rider,  a  woman,  holding 
an  arm  aloft,  was  outlined  above  her  against  the 
sky.  Recoiling,  she  plunged  for  ward  again, 


276  PASSE  ROSE. 

drawing  Jeanne's  hand  closer  within  her  cloak. 
Then  she  heard  a  cry  such  as  no  night  animal 
utters,  the  human  cry  of  distress.  Was  it  the 
voice  of  her  own  fears,  or  did  the  rider  call  to 
her?  Once  more  it  came,  a  cry  of  mingled 
agony  and  rage,  recalling  to  her  that  of  the 
Saxon  on  the  tower  when  leaping  at  her  throat. 
Dieu!  how  like  it  was!  And  without  turning 
back,  she  quickened  her  pace. 

The  stars  were  beginning  to  disappear  in  the 
east  when  the  tower  of  Frankenburg  rose  from 
the  trees.  The  morning  had  not  yet  come,  but 
one  felt  that  it  was  near,  and  that  it  would  be 
beautiful  and  serene.  The  thin  fog,  colored  by 
the  waters  of  the  lake,  commenced  to  stir,  mak 
ing  ready  to  go,  though  the  sun  was  yet  below 
the  horizon.  From  the  border  of  the  wood  a 
bird  sallied  forth,  uttering  its  first  short  song ; 
and  a  rabbit,  startled  from  its  form  by  the  ap 
proach  of  footsteps,  erect  in  the  dewy  grass, 
shook  the  moisture  from  its  ears.  A  column  of 
blue  smoke  rose  from  the  roof  like  another 
tower. 

"  We  will  rest  here,"  said  Passe  Eose,  "  and 
eat." 

"  Aye,"  replied  Jeanne,  faint  and  tired,  "  let 
us  rest  here.  The  way  is  long." 

Following  the  direction  whence  the  smoke 
rose,  through  an  opening  in  the  hedge,  Passe 


PASSE  ROSE.  277 

Rose  perceived  a  small  wooden  cabin  built 
against  the  outer  wall.  Still  holding  Jeanne's 
hand  in  hers,  she  entered  the  inclosure  and  drew 
near  the  house.  Within,  fagots  were  crackling 
and  a  woman  was  preparing  her  morning  meal. 
Seeing  strangers  approach  she  came  to  the  door. 
Her  face  was  comely  and  inspired  confidence. 

"A  little  food  and  rest,"  said  Passe  Rose, 
pointing  to  Jeanne. 

"  Aye,  enter,"  replied  the  woman.  "  The  pot 
is  nearly  done.  Sit  thee  down  here,"  she  said 
to  Jeanne,  drawing  a  bench  to  the  fire ;  "  thy 
feet  are  wet  with  dew." 

"  Christ  bless  thee,"  murmured  Jeanne,  tak 
ing  the  proffered  seat  and  spreading  her  hands 
to  the  blaze. 

Passe  Rose  sat  down  beside  her.  The  woman 
lifted  the  pot  from  the  fireplace,  gazing  curi 
ously  at  the  pair  as  she  continued  her  prepara 
tions.  "  My  sister  is  milking,"  she  said.  "  I 
will  go  fetch  her,  and  we  will  eat  together." 

Passe  Rose  looked  about  the  room.  It  was 
small  but  clean.  The  fire  sparkled  brightly ;  a 
savory  steam  escaped  from  the  pot.  The  warmth 
and  the  smell  of  food  overcame  her.  She  did 
not  know  till  now  that  she  was  faint  and  ex 
hausted.  She  watched  the  escaping  vapor  in  a 
sort  of  stupor  of  physical  enervation  and  con 
tent.  Jeanne,  leaning  against  the  chimney  wall, 


278  PASSE  ROSE. 

was  ready  to  fall  asleep.  Presently  the  woman 
was  heard  returning.  Passe  Eose  started  to 
her  feet.  For  a  moment  she  had  forgotten 
everything.  A  young  girl  was  with  the  woman, 
and  they  bore  between  them  a  large  pail  banded 
with  iron,  from  which  the  milk  froth  dripped. 

44  Where  is  the  captain,"  whispered  Passe 
Rose  in  a  low  voice,  holding  her  finger  to  her 
lips,  and  indicating  Jeanne,  —  "  he  who  was  hurt 
yesterday  in  the  wood  ?  " 

"  The  captain  ?  "  repeated  the  woman,  setting 
down  the  pail  and  regarding  Passe  Rose  with 
surprise. 

"  Gui  of  Tours.     They  said  he  was  here." 

"  In  the  grange  yonder,"  answered  the  woman, 

—  what  would  the  girl  with  the  king's  captain  ? 

—  "beyond  the  pond,  in  the  wood,"  pointing 
over  the  hedge. 

"  Show  me,"  said  Passe  Rose. 

"Go  with  her,  sister.  Thou  wilt  not  eat 
first  ?  " 

"  Come,"  said  Passe  Rose,  taking  the  child's 
hand,  and  leaving  the  woman  gazing  wonder- 
ingly  after  her. 

"  This  way,"  said  the  child  as  they  passed 
through  the  hedge ;  and  looking  up  into  Passe 
Rose's  face,  —  "I  will  show  thee.  They  would 
have  brought  him  hither,  to  the  castle,  but  his 
wound  was  grievous,  so  they  left  him  yonder  in 


v 


PASSE  ROSE.  279 

the  grange  ;  it  was  nearer.  Thy  fingers  bleed ! " 
she  exclaimed,  scrutinizing  Passe  Rose  with  a 
child's  curiosity,  and  observing  both  the  collar 
of  gold  and  the  torn  dress  under  her  cloak. 
"  Art  thou  his  kinswoman  ?  "  Passe  Rose  shook 
her  head.  "  Nay,  that  could  not  be,"  continued 
the  child  wisely.  "  I  heard  it  said  yesternight 
how  the  king  loved  him  because  he  was  be 
trothed  to  his  daughter,  —  not  the  queen's,  but 
another's.  Oh,  but  the  queen  was  distressed 
before  the  king  returned.  I  sat  in  the  hedge 
when  she  passed  by.  They  say  a  queen  cannot 
weep,  but  I  saw  her  eyes,  and  when  the  king 
came  she  embraced  him  before  them  all.  Why 
should  not  a  queen  weep,  since  she  can  smile  ? 
They  say  the  other  never  smiled,  —  the  one 
whose  ring  is  in  the  lake.  Dost  thou  see  the 
ripple  there  in  a  straight  line  between  the  two 
oaks  ?  It  is  there  the  ring  is  hidden.  When  a 
bird  flies  over  the  spot  it  loses  the  power  of  its 
wings,  and  falls  like  a  stone.  Beyond  the  point 
where  thou  seest  the  rocks  glisten  the  boar  was 
killed.  That  was  near,  eh  ?  They  brought  it 
hither,  —  four  horses  could  scarce  drag  it,  — 
and  I  touched  it  with  my  hands.  I  am  not 
afraid  when  it  is  dead.  I  had  a  father  once 
who  was  killed  by  a  stag.  I  have  another  now. 
He  tracks  the  boar  for  the  king  the  day  before 
the  hunt.  Never  did  he  see  such  an  one  as 


280  PASSE  ROSE. 

this.  Its  tusk  was  bent  like  my  finger.  That 
was  because  it  was  old.  But  it  was  fierce. 
Holy  Virgin  !  it  was  fierce.  A  boar  hooks  like 
a  bull.  It  stamps  also  with  its  feet." 
"  Is  it  far  ?  "  asked  Passe  Kose. 
"  Nay,  two  bow-shot.  My  mother  is  at  the 
grange.  She  knows  herbs  to  close  a  wound  and 
drive  the  blood  inward.  The  queen  bade  her 
care  for  the  captain  till  she  sent  her  own  physi 
cian.  Yestermorning  my  mother  said  some  evil 
would  befall,  for  a  sheep  left  the  flock  and  passed 
through  the  hollow  of  a  tree.  It  is  a  sure  sign 
of  death.  It  happened  so  when  my  father  was 
killed.  This  is  the  spot.  Wait  here.  I  will 
go  fetch  my  mother.  The  queen  gave  her  a 
gold  sou  not  to  leave  his  bed."  And  the  girl 
disappeared  on  tiptoe  through  the  door. 

Steadying  herself  against  the  door-post,  Passe 
Rose  looked  out  through  the  wood  where  the 
lake  lay.  The  sun,  just  risen,  was  breaking 
through  the  mist.  In  the  trees  the  birds  quar 
reled  noisily.  Golden  bees  buzzed  among  the 
vines.  But  she  saw  nothing,  heard  nothing. 
She  had  forgotten  all  those  terrible  secrets  re 
peated  by  the  echoing  walls  of  the  tower.  Over 
come  by  the  thought  that  she  was  about  to  see 
Gui,  that  there  were  no  longer  any  barriers  be 
tween  her  and  him,  she  was  saying  to  herself, 
"  It  is  true.  It  is  real.  I  am  here."  She  heard 


PASSE  KOSE.  281 

a  footstep  approaching,  but  could  not  turn  her 
head.  Her  limbs  trembled  as  with  cold,  yet  her 
heart  burned. 

"  What  wilt  thou  ?  "  said  a  voice  beside  her. 

She  made  an  effort,  faced  about,  and  lifted  her 
eyes.  "  The  captain,  —  Gui  of  Tours." 

The  woman  looked  at  her  in  silence,  examin 
ing  her  from  head  to  foot.  Would  she  never 
speak?  Was  she  perchance  going  to  refuse, 
thought  Passe  Rose ;  and  with  the  desperate 
strength  of  fear  :  "  Take  this  collar  to  him,"  she 
said,  unclasping  it  from  her  neck.  "  If  it  avails 
nothing  I  will  go."  But  in  her  heart  she  knew  it 
would  avail  everything,  that  she  would  never  go. 

"  He  sleeps,"  replied  the  woman,  hesitating. 

Passe  Rose  did  not  stir.  The  eyes  of  these 
two  women  rendered  words  useless.  One  was 
saying,  "  You  know  it  cannot  be  otherwise  ;  " 
the  other  replied,  "  I  understand." 

Clinging  to  her  mother's  robe,  the  child  looked 
from  one  to  the  other  wisely.  "  Follow  me," 
said  the  woman. 

On  reaching  the  room  where  Gui  lay  she  stood 
aside  to  let  the  girl  pass,  but  remained  in  the 
doorway,  the  child  still  holding  to  her  robe. 
Passe  Rose  crossed  the  room,  and  knelt  down 
beside  the  couch  in  the  farther  corner.  She 
forgot  that  they  watched  her.  At  that  threshold 
she  had  left  every  human  sentiment  but  love. 


282  PASSE  ROSE. 

Gui  was  asleep.  There  was  nothing  to  terrify. 
The  chest  rose  and  fell  slowly  and  regularly ;  a 
pink  flush  colored  the  tanned  face,  turned  upon 
its  cheek.  Passe  Rose  smiled,  a  smile  of  which 
she  had  no  consciousness.  This  was  the  moment 
of  which  she  had  dreamed  in  her  turret  chamber 
at  Maestricht,  in  the  dark  wood  of  Hesbaye,  in 
the  sheepfold  beside  the  Wurm.  Her  eyes  saw 
everything,  —  the  hands  which  had  fastened  her 
collar,  the  arms  she  had  felt  about  her  at  Imma- 
burg  when  her  senses  fled,  in  whose  clasp  she 
had  left  a  part  of  herself,  which  she  now  found 
again.  Underneath  the  covering  was  the  wound, 
but  the  thought  of  it  terrified  her  no  longer. 
She  was  there,  rich  in  health,  courage,  love. 
What  could  take  him  from  her?  Death?  It 
was  not  possible.  When  death  comes  one  sees 
in  the  face  the  vain  struggle  against  extinction ; 
one  feels  in  one's  own  heart  the  vain  revolt  of  its 
unsatisfied  desires,  and  hears  the  outcry  of  its 
deathless  passions ;  there  is  a  terrible  presence 
against  which  rebellion  is  futile,  which  glides  be 
tween  us  and  life,  its  splendors  and  seductions. 
Nay,  he  was  sleeping,  and  her  heart  was  running 
over  with  projects  and  dreams  ;  peace  filled  the 
room,  and  without  the  sun  was  rising  above  the 
trees,  the  birds  sang,  and  the  golden  bees  flew  in 
and  out  among  the  flowers.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  he,  too,  smiled.  Was  he  dreaming  of  her  ? 


PASSE  ROSE.  283 

Did  he  know  she  was  there  ?  His  hand  hung 
over  the  edge  of  the  bed.  She  longed  to  touch 
it,  but  dared  not  —  he  would  wake.  She  would 
fix  her  eyes  on  his  till  they  opened,  like  flowers 
to  the  sun.  Nay,  that  were  a  sin.  Sleep  was 
precious  to  him.  She  would  lay  her  head  beside 
his  hand  and  wait.  O  God,  what  a  blessed 
moment  when  he  should  wake  !  And  with  an 
impulse  she  could  not  resist  she  laid  her  cheek  in 
his  open  palm. 

Seigneur!  What  had  she  done!  She  held 
her  breath.  He  did  not  stir.  The  hand  was 
warm ;  she  could  feel  its  pulse  next  her  cheek. 
She  did  not  dare  to  move  again,  so  she  lay  still, 
timing  her  breathing  to  his,  and  listening  to  the 
pulse  in  her  ear.  It  seemed  to  her  that  in  a 
moment  she  had  entered  some  blessed  precinct 
fenced  about  from  peril.  Those  terrible  realities 
of  the  night,  the  voices  in  the  tower,  the  cry  of 
Friedgis  in  the  wood,  the  sudden  apparition  of 
Rothilde,  the  sickening  moment  of  fear  and 
struggle,  the  splash  in  the  water  below,  and 
Jeanne,  dear  Jeanne  —  all  these  things  were 
close  at  hand,  but  outside  her  refuge,  and  came 
to  her  thought  only  as  the  cries  of  pursuers  reach 
the  ear  of  the  fugitive  safe  within  the  sanctuary. 

On  a  chest  against  the  opposite  wall  she  saw 
a  tunic  and  leather  braies,  a  linen  shift  and  belt. 
She  looked  at  them  for  a  long  time  without  being 


284  PASSE  HOSE. 

able  to  make  up  her  mind  to  rise.  Then  a  noise 
at  the  door  caused  her  to  lift  her  head  :  it  was 
only  the  woman  in  the  outer  room.  Passe  Rose 
glanced  at  Gui :  he  was  sleeping.  Softly,  her 
eyes  fixed  upon  his  face,  she  went  to  the  chest. 
The  linen  was  clotted  with  blood,  the  leather 
stiffened  by  the  waters  of  the  marsh.  These 
things  were  unutterably  dear  to  her  ;  in  touching 
them  it  seemed  as  if  she  touched  him.  She 
lifted  them  noiselessly,  searching  for  the  papers. 
They  were  not  there.  She  raised  the  lid  of  the 
chest.  Within  was  a  hunting-knife,  its  handle 
set  with  shining  stones ;  a  sealed  packet,  aye  I 
and  the  paper  she  had  found  by  the  pond  near 
the  abbey  ;  and  beside  these,  a  little  ball  of  crim 
son  wool  and  a  brass  pendant,  like  those  which 
hung  from  the  border  of  her  dress.  She  took 
the  papers  and  hid  them  quickly  in  her  bosom, 
but  the  ball  and  trinket  she  held  in  her  hand, 
going  back  to  her  place  beside  the  couch,  and 
laying  her  head  down  on  its  edge.  The  wool 
was  matted  with  blood :  the  trinket,  too,  was 
discolored ;  they  must  have  been  torn  from  her 
dress  at  Immaburg.  Tears  filled  her  eyes.  Un 
til  now  she  had  been  happy  in  loving,  but  now, 
—  O  Blessed  Mother,  whose  image  she  had 
thrown  down,  pardon,  pardon !  for  surely  the 
gods  listen,  —  now  she  was  happy  in  being  loved  ; 
and  unable  to  restrain  herself,  she  reached  out 


PASSE  ROSE.  285 

her   arms   and   drew  her   lover's   head   to   her 
bosoin. 

"Mother,"  said  the  child,  "the  captain  is 
awake  ;  they  whisper  together.  Shall  I  fetch  the 
drink?" 

"  Aye,  go  fetch  it,"  replied  the  woman,  looking 
in  at  the  door,  over  the  child's  head. 

Kumiing  to  the  spring  hard  by,  the  little  maid 
returned  presently  with  a  bowl,  from  which  she 
wiped  the  moisture.  Holding  it  carefully  in 
both  hands,  and  watching  the  rim  lest  the  con 
tents  should  spill,  she  crossed  the  room. 

"  My  mother  says  thou  hast  need  of  refresh* 
ment,"  she  began ;  then  stammered  and  colored, 
she  knew  not  why,  and,  setting  the  bowl  on  the 
chest  by  the  couch,  ran  from  the  chamber. 
"  Surely  the  captain  is  better,"  she  said  to  her 
mother. 

"  Aye,  indeed,"  muttered  the  latter  to  herself, 
as  she  drew  the  child  from  the  door ;  "  love  and 
sage  in  May." 

"  I  thought  thee  lost,"  said  Gui.  He  held 
Passe  Rose's  hands  in  his. 

"  I  thought  thee  dead,"  she  answered  in  a 
whisper. 

That  was  all.  They  could  not  speak,  pressing 
each  other's  hands  and  exchanging  radiant  smiles. 

The  questions  which  had  tormented  him, why 

was  she  wandering  alone  in  the  wood  of  Hesbaye, 


286  PASSE  ROSE. 

why  had  she  fled  from  the  wagon,  —  he  could 
not  ask  them ;  and  she  had  forgotten  the  papers 
in  her  bosom,  Agnes  of  Solier,  and  the  boar's 
work,  —  her  wound  and  his. 

"  Dost  thou  remember  when  I  first  saw  thee, 
in  the  wood  ?  "  She  nodded.  "  And  at  thy 
door,  as  I  rode  by  ?  And  in  the  meadow  ?  " 
Her  hands  pressed  his  for  answer.  She  no 
longer  withdrew  them,  nor  turned  away  her  eyes. 
The  very  blood  in  her  veins  seemed  still,  she  was 
so  calm  and  contented.  Have  you  seen  the  in 
coming  sea  toss  the  flags  in  the  marshes  ?  But 
when  the  tide  is  full,  what  peace,  what  stillness ! 
—  not  a  stem  trembles.  At  this  moment  she 
remembered  what  the  Greek  merchant  had  said 
to  her  at  the  fair  of  St.  Denis  :  "  The  gods  made 
thee  to  delight  their  eyes."  The  words  which 
had  angered  her  then  now  made  her  smile  with 
happiness.  "  Tell  me  that  thou  lovest  me,"  said 
Gui. 

Love  him!  Could  he  not  see?  Did  she 
shrink  away,  as  in  the  meadow  ?  Then,  she,  the 
weak,  was  his;  now,  he,  the  strong,  was  hers. 
An  indescribable  sense  of  security  possessed  her. 
Love  him  !  Without,  the  wood  rang  with  the 
songs  of  birds  issuing  from  its  sunlit  borders, 
mounting  skywards  from  its  silent  glades,  shak 
ing  the  dew  in  little  showers  from  their  ruffled 
feathers,  trying  their  wings,  audacious,  their  tiny 


PASSE  ROSE.  287 

throats  trembling  with  melody.  Can  one  call 
them  back  to  their  nesting-places  after  the  sun 
is  risen  ?  As  well  seek  to  call  back  from  the 
face  what  the  heart  sets  free.  Love  him ! 
Could  he  not  see  ?  And  then  suddenly  all  those 
shy  and  modest  spirits  which  guard  the  inmost 
sanctuary  rose  in  mutiny  and  alarm,  and  she  hid 
her  face  on  his  breast. 

"  Rose,  Passe  Rose,"  murmured  GUI,  endeavor 
ing  in  vain  to  lift  her  head ;  for  she  clung  the 
closer,  burying  her  face  in  the  covering  of  the 
bed.  His  arm  glided  under  the  robe  which  en 
veloped  her  shoulders,  drew  her  to  him,  and  he 
kissed  the  head,  whose  fine  hairs  trembled  at 
every  breath,  close  to  his  lips. 

"  Nay,  it  is  not  possible  that  I  am  here,"  she 
thought.  She  forced  herself  to  imagine  that 
she  was  far  away,  that  night  was  coming  on  in 
the  great  wood  of  Hesbaye,  that  she  hid  in  the 
sheepfold  by  the  Wurm ;  shutting  her  eyes  to 
better  feign  her  past  fears.  How  cold  and  wet 
was  the  moss  next  her  cheek,  and  the  wind,  how 
it  sighed!  What  darkness,  and  what  sounds! 
Feeling  all  the  while  his  breath  stir  her  hair, 
and  saying  to  herself,  "  It  is  true,  it  is  true." 

"  Where  is  thy  wound  ? "  she  asked,  lifting 
her  head  quickly. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  replied  Gui. 

"Show  me,"  she  said,  kneeling  beside  the 
couch,  and  uncovering  his  limb. 


288  PASSE  ROSE. 

At  the  touch  of  her  fingers  he  blushed,  turn 
ing  away  his  head  and  closing  his  eyes.  The 
bandage,  stained  by  a  yellow  ointment,  was 
drawn  tightly  over  the  thigh.  At  the  sight  of 
it,  Passe  Rose  remembered  a  terrible  valley 
strewn  with  corpses  and  filled  with  groans. 
Where,  when,  she  did  not  know.  Till  now  she 
had  completely  forgotten  it.  But  she  saw  her 
self  distinctly,  a  little  girl,  stumbling  under  the 
jar  of  fresh  water  on  her  shoulder,  running  from 
group  to  group  under  the  trees  where  the 
wounded  were  laid :  one,  a  clear-eyed  boy,  — 
she  remembered  him  well,  —  to  whose  lips  she 
held  her  jar,  while  a  monk  washed  the  wound 
with  white  wine,  stanching  it  with  the  miracu 
lous  salve  which  he  took  from  the  flask  at  his 
girdle,  and  who,  when  he  had  done,  traced  a 
cross  upon  the  linen  band,  and  repeated  the  four 
names  of  God  containing  the  seven  vowels. 
She  wished  to  pronounce  now  those  names  of 
the  Blessed  God,  but  she  had  forgotten  them  ; 
so  she  drew  a  cross  quickly  upon  the  bandage 
with  her  finger,  and  repeated  those  of  the  four 
Evangelists  in  their  stead.  Relieved  and  com 
forted  by  this  act,  she  covered  the  limb  again 
gently,  and,  taking  the  bowl  from  the  chest, 
held  it  to  Gui's  lips. 

"  Thy  hand  bleeds,"  he  said.    . 

"  Drink  first.     I  will  tell  thee." 


PASSE  ROSE.  289 

He  obeyed,  interrogating  her  face.  For  the 
first  time  he  asked  himself  how  she  came  to  be 
there.  As  he  sipped  the  liquid  in  little  swal 
lows,  a  horn  sounded  without ;  then  came  the 
neighing  of  horses  and  the  chatter  of  voices. 
Passe  Kose  listened.  The  woman  was  at  the 
door,  beckoning  her.  "  They  are  here.  Sei 
gneur  Dieu,  come  away  !  "  she  whispered. 

"  Do  not  go,"  said  Gui,  endeavoring  to  raise 
himself.  His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  Passe  Rose 
imploringly,  and  he  sought  to  retain  her  hand. 
She  stooped  to  his  ear,  saying  something  which 
caused  him  to  smile.  He  let  go  her  hand,  and 
she  went  out.  Through  the  door  she  saw  a 
company  of  women,  escorted  by  horsemen.  The 
sun  sparkled  in  the  fringes  of  the  harness,  and 
glittered  on  the  spear  -  heads,  and  pages  in  col 
ored  capes  stood  at  the  palfreys'  stirrups.  The 
women  were  dismounting,  among  them  Passe 
Rose  recognized  Heluiz  of  Hesbaye,  then  Ge- 
sualda.  She  searched  for  a  third,  Agnes  of  So- 
ier,  but  could  not  discover  her.  There  was  also 
a  monk  in  the  black  habit  of  the  Benedictines, 
having  a  sprinkling-rod  in  his  hand.  "  He  must 
be  the  physician  sent  by  the  queen,"  thought 
Passe  Rose.  She  stood  watching  them  as  they 
approached,  till  she  heard  the  voice  of  Gesualda 
above  the  others,  when  she  sprang  to  the  door 
in  the  rear,  and  hid  in  the  shrubbery  which 


290  PASSE  ROSE. 

masked  the  out-buildings.  Having  waited  till  the 
company  had  entered,  she  stole  behind  the  hedge 
to  where  the  horses  were  tethered,  and  putting 
aside  the  branches  softly,  looked  between  the 
leaves.  The  soldiers  were  sitting  in  groups  in 
the  shade ;  near  by,  the  horses  browsed,  their 
bridle-reins  thrown  over  the  lances  planted  in 
the  ground.  The  little  maid  who  had  shown  her 
to  the  grange  ran  among  them,  stroking  their 
glossy  necks,  and  timidly  offering  them  grass 
from  her  hand. 

"  Have  a  care  ;  that  one  bites  !  "  cried  a  sol 
dier  stretched  on  the  moss,  and  laughing  at  the 
quick  withdrawal  of  the  extended  hand. 

"  Thou  art  jesting,"  said  the  maid,  looking 
from  the  speaker  to  the  steed,  which  arched  its 
neck,  trembling  with  desire,  and  blowing  the 
froth  from  its  nostrils. 

"  On  my  faith,  have  a  care." 

Studying  the  brown  eye  and  the  ears  pricked 
forward,  the  girl  advanced  her  hand  again 
slowly  till  the  velvet  mouth  just  grazed  her 
palm,  and  cast  a  triumphant  glance  over  her 
shoulder. 

"  Wilt  thou  mount  ?  "  asked  the  soldier,  ris 
ing. 

"Aye,  willingly!"  cried  she,  clapping  her 
hands. 

He  lifted  her  in  his  arms,  and  set  her  in  the 


PASSE  ROSE.  291 

saddle.  "  So  now,  softly.  Sign  thyself  and  say 
thy  prayers." 

The  child  laughed,  her  eyes  sparkling  with 
pleasure.  "  Heu !  "  she  said,  taking  the  rein. 

The  soldier  looked  at  her  admiringly.  "  Amuse 
thyself,  but  go  not  far,"  he  called  after  her  as 
she  made  her  way  between  the  trees. 

Gliding  along  the  hedge,  Passe  Rose  ran 
towards  the  angle  where  the  path  from  the 
grange  entered  the  road.  The  little  maid,  her 
bare  feet  pressed  against  the  horse's  flanks,  her 
fingers  grasping  the  tufts  of  hair  hanging  from 
the  saddle-bow,  did  not  at  first  perceive  her,  be 
ing  occupied  in  personating  the  Queen  of  Sheba 
coming  to  Jerusalem,  with  a  very  great  train  of 
camels  bearing  spices,  gold,  and  precious  stones. 
Holding  her  head  erect,  she  endeavored  to  im 
press  upon  her  features,  radiant  with  joy,  the 
dignity  befitting  her  station,  talking  to  herself 
as  she  rode. 

"  Thy  mother  calls  thee,"  said  a  voice,  just 
before  her.  Queen  and  camels  and  spices  van 
ished.  She  looked  up  and  saw  Passe  Rose. 
"  Run,  quick  !  I  will  care  for  the  horse." 

The  child  slid  to  the  ground  in  terror,  her 
thoughts  divided  between  the  reality  and  the 
dream.  Would  her  mother  then  punish  the 
Queen  of  Sheba  ?  and  gathering  the  skirt  of  her 
dress  in  her  hand,  she  ran  with  all  her  might 


292  PASSE  ROSE. 

towards  the  house.  She  had  not  disappeared 
under  the  leafage  of  the  oaks  before  Passe  Rose 
was  in  her  place,  and  the  feet  of  Gesualda's 
palfrey  were  echoing  on  the  road  to  Aix. 


XXI. 

At  the  foot  of  the  tower  by  the  ford  of  the 
Wurm  the  waters  lie  still  and  deep.  A  lance, 
hurled  by  a  strong  arm  into  the  heart  of  the 
pool,  disappears  its  entire  length,  then  rebounds, 
falls  sidewise,  turns  slowly  in  the  eddy,  shoots 
into  the  channel  next  the  bank,  past  every  root 
and  hollow  where  it  would  pause,  till  it  reaches 
the  crescent  of  sand  below.  Here  the  waters, 
tired  of  their  toy,  cast  it  up  on  the  bar,  and 
hurry  on  over  a  broad  slant  of  pebbles.  This 
year's  blossom  or  last  year's  leaf,  the  dead  or 
the  living,  the  Wurm  treats  all  alike. 

Reeling  from  the  edge  of  the  tower,  it  seemed 
to  Rothilde  that  the  river  leaped  up  to  embrace 
her.  She  put  out  her  hands,  turned  in  mid-air, 
saw  the  sky  twinkling  with  stars,  —  then  every 
thing  disappeared.  Her  feet  were  entangled  in 
her  cloak.  She  straightened  her  limbs  to  free 
them  from  its  folds,  shutting  her  mouth  and 
bracing  the  muscles  of  her  chest  and  throat 
against  the  pressure  which  strangled  her.  At 


PASSE  ROSE.  293 

last  the  stars  appeared  again  ;  she  could  breathe 
once  more.  Her  hands  were  free,  and  she  strug 
gled  blindly  for  the  shore.  But  the  river  was 
not  done  with  her.  It  whirled  her  round  like  a 
straw  in  its  eddy,  sucked  her  down  where  it  left 
the  pool,  drove  her  past  root  and  stem  at  which 
she  clutched,  till,  tired  of  its  plaything,  it  pushed 
it  aside  on  the  shallow,  and  ran  rippling  over 
the  shingle. 

The  instant  her  feet  touched   the   sand   she 

knew   she   was  saved.      Those    terrible  visions 

which    crowd    upon    the    eyes    confronted    by 

sudden  death,  and  which  for  the  moment  seem 

the  only  realities,  were  gone,  and  all  the  energy 

of  life,  its   hopes  and  fever,  were  hers  again. 

Breathless  and  spent,  shivering  with   the  chill 

of  the  river,  bewildered,  as  one  waking  from  a 

nightmare,  but  safe,  she  crawled   to  the  top  of 

the  bar,  laughing  hysterically.     "  Nay,  not  yet, 

not  yet,"  she  repeated  to  herself.     She  unwound 

from  her  feet  the  cloak  which  trailed  behind 

her,  leaving  a  glistening  track  upon  the  sand, 

and  wrung  the  water  from  her   silver-braided 

dress.     The  tower  rose  among  the  trees,  —  what 

a  leap!     The  girl  had  worsted  her.     "Wait, 

wait,"  she   cried    through  her  chattering  teeth, 

loosening  her  clinging  dress,  "  my  time  is  not 

yet  come."     As  she  broke  her  way  through  the 

bushes  which  fringed  the  shore,  a  sharp  pain 


294  PASSE  ROSE. 

t 

smote  her  in  the  breast,  —  the  chill  of  the  water, 
she  thought.  If  the  horse  were  still  there,  she 
would  warm  her  blood  with  such  a  gallop  as  the 
page  never  dreamed  of.  Dieu,  the  pain  again  ! 
Her  bosom  was  wet,  not  with  water,  but  with 
something  slimy,  which  stuck  to  her  fingers. 
Had  the  girl  struck  her  ?  It  was  not  possible  ; 
she  felt  herself  strong,  — the  strength  of  ten 
lives  !  Crossing  an  open  space,  she  held  up  her 
hand  in  the  starlight.  Aye,  it  was  blood;  it 
ran  down  her  wrist.  She  opened  her  dress  to 
see  whence  it  came.  A  mere  scratch,  —  let  it 
bleed :  it  was  blood  shed  for  the  king ;  every 
drop  the  heart  lost  would  buy  what  it  desired. 
She  tore  the  shreds  of  her  neckerchief  from  her 
throat,  rolled  them  together,  and  pressed  them 
within  her  robe,  hurrying  on  through  the  wood. 
As  the  tower  appeared  between  the  trees,  she 

paused  to  listen.     The  horse  was  still  there, 

she  could  hear  it  browsing  in  the  grass  ;  there 
was  no  other  sound,  and  she  stepped  out  cau 
tiously  from  behind  the  trunk  of  a  tree.  The 
horse  lifted  its  head  and  neighed.  She  held  out 
her  hand,  speaking  softly,  cajolingly,  till  the 
rein  was  in  her  grasp.  In  a  quarter  hour  she 
would  be  with  the  king!  She  led  the  horse 
along  the  bank,  for  the  space  between  the  river 
and  the  trees  was  narrow  and  the  branches 
hung  low,  and  on  reaching  the  road  sprang  for 


PASSE  HOSE.  295 

the  saddle.  But  the  hand  which  grasped  the 
mane  gave  way,  and  she  fell  back  with  a  cry  of 
pain.  The  blood  trickled  into  her  palm  again. 
Had  the  girl  cut  her  arm  ?  She  had  felt  noth 
ing,  yet  it  was  from  there  the  blood  came.  Boil 
ing  back  the  sleeve,  she  turned  her  arm  to  the 
light.  Aye,  the  wound  was  there.  She  tore  a 
strip  from  her  dress,  and,  holding  one  end  be 
tween  her  teeth,  knotted  it  above  the  wrist, 
twisting  it  tightly  with  a  broken  branch.  With 
but  one  hand,  she  could  not  fasten  the  knot  se 
curely.  In  spite  of  every  effort  it  slipped  and 
loosened.  Abandoning  the  attempt,  she  stepped 
upon  a  stone,  and  climbed  to  the  saddle.  The 
horse,  feeling  the  pressure  of  her  knees,  bounded 
forward.  It  was  not  so  easy  to  hold  her  seat  as 
when  galloping  with  the  page.  She  turned  the 
mare's  head  into  the  road  which  led  to  Frank- 
enburg,  through  the  wood,  and  which  joined 
the  highway  without  the  eastern  gate,  where,  if 
need  were,  she  might  enter  the  city.  What  se 
cret  apprehension,  what  presentiment  of  peril, 
brought  this  to  mind  she  would  not  confess  ; 
she  only  knew  that  at  every  leap  a  lance-like 
pain  caught  her  breath.  Holding  her  arm  close 
to  her  face,  she  strained  her  eyes  to  see  how  it 
fared  ;  but  the  shadow  of  the  overhanging  trees 
was  sj  dense  she  could  discern  nothing.  She 
could  endure  the  pain  no  longer,  and  drew  the 


296  PASSE  ROSE. 

rein  to  slacken  the  pace.  From  time  to  time, 
a  feeling  of  sinking  made  her  fingers  clutch  the 
mane,  and  a  horrible  misgiving  that  she  was 
fainting,  dying,  oppressed  her.  The  horse  was 
walking  now  ;  if  she  could  but  reach  the  gate ! 
Cursed  blood !  oozing  through  the  bandage, 
running  into  her  palm,  dripping  from  her  fin 
gers,  like  a  living  thing.  God  !  was  it  possible  ? 
to  vanquish  the  river  only  to  see  life  ebb  under 
her  eyes,  drop  by  drop  !  The  thought  of  her 
arm  filled  her  with  rage ;  she  wished  to  strike 
it,  to  cut  it  off.  Hark  !  the  midnight  bell  in 
the  king's  chapel.  The  gate  must  be  close  by. 
Aye,  she  could  hear  the  voice  of  the  watch  cry 
ing  the  hour  in  the  palace  court.  With  a  des 
perate  calm  she  rewound  the  bandage  and  tight 
ened  the  knot,  then  held  her  arm  aloft  to  dimin 
ish  the  flow.  As  the  gate  loomed  up  before  her, 
the  horse  started  back,  nearly  throwing  her  from 
her  seat,  and  she  saw  two  forms  hurrying  away 
in  the  darkness.  "  Help !  "  she  cried,  turning 
in  the  saddle.  The  tones  of  her  own  voice, 
wavering  beyond  control  in  her  throat,  fright 
ened  her.  "  Help  !  "  But  no  answer  came 
back.  "  Cowards  I  "  she  muttered  through  her 
set  teeth,  and  still  holding  her  arm  aloft,  cling 
ing  to  the  saddle  with  the  other,  she  passed 
under  the  gate.  Not  a  soul  was  in  sight,  and 
the  echo  of  the  horse's  feet  beat  back  and  forth 


between  the  walls.  The  pain  was  goneTotttr'a 
sensation  of  suffocation  oppressed  her.  She 
had  forgotten  the  king  now ;  all  her  desire  was 
for  instant  relief.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she 
could  not  longer  retain  her  hold ;  that  she  must 
slide  to  the  ground,  where  she  might  fix  her 
arms  against  something  firm,  to  get  relief  for 
her  laboring  lungs.  The  horse  was  turning  into 
the  square,  and  she  fastened  her  eyes  upon  a 
light  shining  before  her.  It  looked  so  far ! 
Feeling  no  rein,  the  horse  wandered  from  the 
direct  course,  lifting  its  head  intelligently  for 
some  sign.  She  made  an  effort  to  guide  it  with 
her  knees,  and  at  the  same  instant  a  spasm  of 
suffocation  so  terrible  attacked  her  that  she  cried 
out,  forgetting  everything,  and  sliding  to  the 
ground,  where  she  supported  herself  upon  her 
hands,  like  the  wounded  gladiator  dying  from 
loss  of  blood,  and  lifting  himself  with  a  last  gasp 
for  air  above  the  sand  of  the  arena.  At  that 
moment,  from  the  basilica  where  the  light  shone 
came  the  response  of  the  clerks :  "  O  Christ, 
save  Karle."  Refreshed  as  by  a  draught  of 
wine  she  raised  her  head  and  opened  her  eyes. 
Where  was  she  ?  Overhead  a  single  star  gazed 
steadfastly  at  her ;  and  about  it,  in  narrowing 
circles,  swept  its  myriad  fellows,  —  oh,  so  fast, 
so  fast !  a  whirlpool  of  stars,  shouting  in  her 
ears,  "  Christ,  save  Karle ! "  long  after  her  wide- 
open  eyes  had  ceased  to  see. 


298  PASSE  ROSE. 

It  was  then  that  Brother  Dominic,  returning 
from  midnight  service  in  the  king's  oratory,  as 
he  hastened  across  the  square,  saw  a  horse 
trembling  with  fear,  and  sniffing  at  something 
lying  at  its  feet.  Hurrying  to  the  spot,  the 
monk  stooped  above  it.  Jesu !  the  woman  of 
Immaburg!  Her  eyes  stared  at  him  fixedly. 
Distraught,  not  knowing  what  to  do,  Brother 
Dominic  wrung  his  hands,  ran  a  little  space, 
crying,  "  Succor  !  succor  !  "  returned,  lifted  the 
body  in  his  arms,  and  staggered  towards  the  pal 
ace  gate.  A  groan  escaped  the  woman's  lips. 
He  had  taken  her  awkwardly,  and  she  slipped 
from  his  grasp.  He  laid  her  down,  bending 
his  ear  to  the  bloodless  lips.  Faint  with  horror 
and  fasting,  he  began  to  run  once  more,  crying, 
"  Succor  !  succor !  "  Men  with  torches  were  is 
suing  from  the  guard-room  under  the  archway. 
"  Ho  !  this  way  !  Succor !  "  cried  Brother  Dom 
inic,  out  of  breath. 

The  Gascon  was  first  on  the  spot.  "  God's 
wounds  !  "  he  exclaimed,  holding  the  torch  above 
his  head,  and  recognizing  Rothilde. 

His  comrades  crowded  about  him  with  excited 
speech :  — 

"  Loosen  her  girdle." 

"  She  is  dead." 

"I  saw  her  enter  with  the  page." 

"  Nay,  she  rode  out  again." 


PASSE  ROSE.  299 

"  Stand  off,  —  give  her  air !  "  cried  the  Gas 
con,  pushing  them  back.  "  Fetch  water,  quick  !  " 

"  She  hath  water  enough,"  said  one,  aiding 
him  to  unfasten  her  girdle. 

"  Look,  she  bleeds.  Hold  thy  torch  here. 
Some  one  hath  stabbed  her ! "  exclaimed  the 
Gascon.  "  The  monk,  the  monk  !  " 

Brother  Dominic  had  not  stirred  from  the 
spot  where  he  stood.  To  his  sensitive  vision,  a 
supreme  egoism,  the  egoism  of  a  soul  which  sees 
in  every  phenomenon  the  interference  of  God  in 
its  behalf  or  the  effort  of  Satan  to  entrap  it, 
rendered  'every  event  a  phase  of  that  fierce  strug 
gle  between  the  powers  of  good  and  evil  for  his 
possession.  He  watched  with  anguish  this  des 
perate  combat,  whose  issue  involved  his  spiritual 
destiny.  To  his  soul,  concentrated  upon  itself, 
alert  to  every  influence,  impersonating  its  own 
impulses,  penetrated  by  the  sublime  conviction 
of  its  dignity,  life  was  an  expanding  circle  cen 
tred  in  his  own  individual  experience.  For  God 
had  opened  his  eyes.  He  had  been  environed 
by  wonders,  and  he  had  not  known  it.  Spirits, 
palpable,  visible,  surrounded  him,  and  he  had 
not  seen  them.  They  were  within  him,  rousing 
every  evil  desire,  and  bringing  to  shame  a  life 
of  consecration.  They  were  without  him :  by 
the  wayside  as  he  journeyed ;  in  the  goldsmith's 
daughter,  who  took  from  his  very  hand  the  pa- 


300  PASSE  ROSE. 

pers  with  which  he  had  been  intrusted  ;  in  the 
woman  of  Immaburg,  whose  compelling  pres 
ence  enslaved  his  will,  distilling  sweet  but  nox 
ious  perfumes  from  her  hair,  lighting  in  her  gar 
net  girdle  unholy  fires,  luring  him  through  her 
lips  with  unhallowed  promises.  Aye,  God  had 
opened  his  eyes ;  he,  who  thought  himself  the 
least  of  all  with  whom  he  mingled,  was  the  prize 
for  which  they  contended.  Glad  to  escape  from 
that  spacious  chamber  which  had  formerly  been 
his  pride,  where  lingered  the  odor  of  a  cendal 
tissue,  whose  walls  were  ever  whispering  to  him, 
"  Be  discreet,  and  I  will  pay  thee  in  what  coin 
thoti  wilt,"  he  had  consecrated  himself  anew  in 
the  gloom  and  chill  of  the  king's  chapel.  Even 
while  he  prayed,  struggling  to  put  his  foot  on 
the  neck  of  his  infirmity,  a  pearl  chaplet  gleamed 
before  his  shut  eyes ;  and  when  he  raised  them 
aloft,  imploring  siiccor,  the  brooch  shining  on 
the  mantle  of  the  shadowy  form  in  the  king's 
tribune  seemed  the  eye  of  God  fastened  upon 
him.  Above  all  else  he  yearned  for  his  narrow 
cell  at  Maestricht.  Sitting  at  his  desk  by  its 
window,  he  had  often  longed  to  follow  the  birds, 
resting  for  a  moment  on  the  apple  branch  within 
reach  of  his  hand  to  disappear  in  the  far  mys 
terious  horizon.  The  way  had  appeared  hard 
then  ;  but  it  was  the  way  to  heaven.  Horrified 
as  he  was  by  the  spectacle  before  his  eyes,  he 


PASSE  ROSE.  301 

felt  that  God  had  come  to  his  aid.  The  pride 
of  beauty  and  the  lust  of  flesh,  —  these  had  al 
most  gotten  the  mastery  of  him  ;  and  he  saw 
them  prostrate  in  the  mire  of  the  street.  Surely 
God  trampled  his  adversaries  under-foot.  The 
joy  of  an  immense  deliverance  broke  into  praise 
at  the  very  moment  when  the  soldiers  seized 
him,  and  every  emotion  was  swallowed  up  in  the 
exultation  of  spiritual  victory. 

"  Bind  him  fast,"  cried  the  Gascon ;  "  let  him 
not  escape !  " 

Brother  Dominic,  offering  no  resistance,  was 
smiling.  Would  God  indeed  measure  the  depth 
of  his  repentance  as  he  had  tried  the  faith  of  the 
martyrs?  For  through  stripes  and  suffering 
even  those  who  had  offended  him  became  his 
friends,  and  thus  the  martyrs  had  gained  their 
crowns. 

"  Ai'e,  aie,"  said  the  soldier,  binding  his 
wrists,  "  a  monk  stab  a  woman ! " 

XXII. 

On  dismounting  at  the  ford  of  the  Wurm, 
Sergius  and  his  companion  had  left  their  horses 
to  browse  in  the  forest.  Feeding  quietly  among 
the  reeds,  the  latter  had  strayed  to  the  pool 
where  Passe  Rose  had  set  her  jar,  for  there  the 
grass,  moistened  by  the  trickling  water,  grew 


302  PASSE  ROSE. 

rank  and  tender.  Close  by  lay  the  body  of 
Friedgis. 

Suddenly  the  leader  drew  back,  trembling,  its 
nostrils  inflated,  ears  bent  forward,  and  tail  ex 
tended  ;  then  wheeled,  communicating  its  terror 
to  its  fellow,  and  plunged  through  the  brakes. 

One  would  be  at  a  loss  to  know  what  death 
is,  were  the  representations  of  the  mind,  com 
plex  and  mysterious  as  is  the  mind  itself,  its 
only  witnesses.  A  gasp  for  air  when  the  spirit 
lies  in  stupor  ?  A  liberation  from  the  wants  of 
the  body  ?  An  usher  at  a  door  ?  A  realmless 
king,  slighted  by  love,  mocked  by  ambition,  defied 
by  a  swaggering  nobody  ?  An  enemy,  before 
whose  approach  "  life  is  an  organized  retreat," 
turning  to  victory  at  the  final  rout?  But  death 
will  wear  none  of  these  guises.  To-day,  as  on 
the  first  day,  it  appears  under  one  simple  aspect 
—  the  corpse  upon  the  bier,  a  form  no  longer 
human,  not  yet  material,  inspiring  the  same  ter 
ror  which  the  horse  felt  when  the  nameless  odor 
of  this  which  had  once  subjugated  him  and 
which  he  had  loved  reached  his  nostrils  in  the 
wet  grass,  and  he  bounded  panic-stricken 
through  the  wood. 

"  This  way,"  said  the  soldier,  stumbling  over 
the  uneven  ground. 

"  Where  art  thou  ?  "  replied  the  prior,  grop 
ing  behind  in  the  darkness. 


PASSE  ROSE.  303 

"  Here,  to  thy  left.  Have  a  care,  —  there  is 
a  pool.  Damned  horses !  they  have  escaped 
us." 

"  Listen,"  said  Sergius,  turning  his  ear  to  the 
wind  ;  "  we  have  passed  the  spot." 

"  Nay,  nay,  this  way  ;  I  remember,"  cried  his 
companion,  continuing  his  search,  and  uttering 
an  oath  at  every  obstacle. 

Embarrassed  by  his  robe,  Sergius  followed 
in  the  direction  indicated,  till,  caught  in  a 
thicket  whose  stems  stabbed  his  face  at  every 
movement,  he  was  forced  to  stop.  "Where  art 
thou?"he  asked  again.  Receiving  no  answer, 
he  made  another  effort  to  extricate  himself ; 
then  paused  again  to  listen.  At  some  distance 
he  heard  a  noise  of  breaking  bushes,  but  the 
sounds  seemed  behind  him.  The  leaves  trem 
bled  in  the  fresh  air  of  night,  and  the  water 
from  the  spring  trickled  between  the  stones. 
"  It  were  best  to  follow  the  stream,"  he  thought 
to  himself;  "it  must  lead  to  the  river  ;  "  and, 
stooping,  he  felt  his  way  with  his  hands.  But 
the  gurgle  of  the  water  was  lost  in  the  leaves' 
rustle,  which  resembled  the  murmur  of  the 
river,  now  before,* now  behind  him.  "Hola!" 
he  cried,  rising  to  his  feet,  bewildered.  In  a 
space  which  a  swallow  traverses  with  a  single 
beat  of  its  wing  he  was  lost  as  completely  as  in 
an  immense  wilderness.  No  longer  knowing: 


304  PASSE  ROSE. 

whither  he  went,  he  hurried  forward,  changing 
his  course  unconsciously  at  every  barrier,  and 
stopping  from  time  to  time  in  a  vain  endeavor 
to  reason. 

At  last  his  feet  sank  in  the  marshy  ground, 
and  he  observed  that  reeds  had  succeeded  the 
thicket.  He  must  be  near  the  river.  As  he 
advanced  cautiously  over  the  miry  soil,  the  trees 
became  more  scattered  and  a  clear  space  of 
stars  opened  overhead,  his  foot  struck  the  sand, 
and  he  heard  the  wash  of  water.  Traversing  the 
wood  parallel  to  the  river,  he  had  struck  the 
latter  far  below  the  ford.  He  hastened  to  the 
bank;  for  a  moment  the  Wurm  appeared  to 
him  to  be  flowing  in  the  wrong  direction.  He 
struggled  slowly  through  the  dense  growth  which 
lined  the  shore,  not  daring  to  trust  himself  be 
yond  hearing  of  the  water,  following  the  wind 
ings  of  the  stream.  When  he  reached  the  spot 
where  Rothilde  had  dragged  herself  from  the 
current,  signs  of  dawn  were  in  the  east.  So 
slow  and  exhausting  was  his  progress  through 
the  bushes  which  choked  the  bank  that,  seeing 
the  opposite  bank  was  more  open,  he  crossed 
over  by  the  bar  jutting  out'  into  the  shallows. 
From  the  meadow  the  tower  was  visible  in  the 
gray  dawn.  At  every  sound  he  paused  to  listen. 
Where  was  his  companion  ?  Fool !  they  should 
have  kept  together.  When  the  wind  sighed 


PASSE  ROSE.  305 

and  the  rubbing  branches  creaked,  he  thought 
he  heard  the  whinny  of  a  horse,  —  a  horse  which 
followed  his  voice  as  a  dog  hugs  the  heel  of  a 
shepherd,  and  which  had  deserted  him  like  a 
wild  colt  when  minutes  were  precious  !  At  the 
ford  he  plunged  in  unhesitatingly,  although  the 
water  was  deep.  "  It  is  not  far,"  he  thought, 
shivering,  for  the  stream  was  cold. 

When  he  reached  the  gate,  day  was  come  and 
the  streets  were  filled  with  people.  He  sought 
his  lodging  by  circuitous  ways,  for  his  robe  was 
torn,  and  its  skirt  wet  and 'stained  with  mire. 
From  the  preparations  he  saw  on  every  side  he 
divined  the  coming  of  Pepin.  From  the  court 
yard  of  the  abbot  of  Fontenelle  issued  a  tumult 
of  voices.  Profiting  by  the  confusion,  and  re 
solved  upon  first  interrogating  Brother  Domi 
nic,  he  drew  his  hood  over  his  face,  and,  slip 
ping  through  the  crowd  unobserved,  gained  the 
monk's  chamber.  The  room  was  empty.  A 
candle,  burned  to  the  socket,  stood  on  the  table ; 
the  bed  was  undisturbed.  From  the  window  he 
saw  gathered  the  abbot's  followers,  and,  not 
daring  again  to  risk  observance,  determined  to 
wait  till  the  train  should  pass  out.  As  he 
barred  the  door  he  saw  at  his  feet  something 
which  glistened,  —  a  black  pearl !  That  it  was 
one  which  belonged  to  Rothilde's  fillet  he  was 
sure.  He  endeavored  to  recall  her  as  she  stood 


306  PASSE  ROSE. 

at  the  tower  door  in  the  starlight :  had  she 
worn  the  fillet  that  night  ?  Holding  the  pearl 
in  his  hand,  he  felt  the  perspiration  start  in 
beads  from  his  forehead.  The  night's  mischance, 
like  a  little  cloud  before  the  sun,  casting  a 
shadow  out  of  all  proportion  to  its  size,  had 
filled  him  with  anxiety  and  alarm.  Tortured  by 
uncertainty,  every  event  assumed  importance. 
What  devil's  imp  directed  them  !  He  had  taken 
a  serf  for  a  servant,  and  this  stolid  fellow, 
with  the  shoulders  of  an  ox,  had  the  eyes  of  a 
ferret ;  or  did  the  girl  lie  ?  Her  mocking  smile 
haunted  him.  He  had  chosen  her  for  her  wit ; 
had  she  outwitted  him  ?  He  had  sought  to  turn 
her  passion  to  his  purpose ;  had  she  purposes 
of  her  own?  With  what  eagerness  she  de 
manded  Friedgis'  life,  like  a  tigress  lapping 
blood  !  Did  she  really  fear  him  ?  If,  as  she 
asserted,  he  had  followed  her  to  the  church  of 
St.  Marcellus,  why  had  she  gone  to  the  hunt? 
What !  he  tracks  her  from  the  church  to  the 
palace,  asks  for  the  king,  and  again  for  the 
queen,  and  she  rides  unconcerned  to  the  chase 
at  Frankenburg  ?  It  was  incredible.  Why  then 
did  she  thirst  so  for  his  life  ?  They  were  of  the 
same  race  ;  did  they  perchance  know  each  other? 
thought  the  prior.  And  the  Greek  failed  him  at 
the  decisive  moment !  But  for  his  delay  this  had 
been  the  very  night ;  and  now  the  papers  were 


PASSE  ROSE.  307 

in  the  hands  of  the  king's  captain.  What  fiend's 
luck  had  sent  this  captain  to  Maestricht !  And 
a  multitude  of  forgotten  details  crowded  upon 
the  prior's  recollection,  —  Gui's  inquiry  at  the 
abbey  for  Passe  Rose,  the  latter's  disappearance, 
her  presence  at  Immaburg,  where  Rothilde  had 
seen  her  with  the  monk.  "  So,"  thought  the 
prior,  looking  at  the  pearl  in  his  hand  and  think 
ing  of  Brother  Dominic,  "  thou  also  hast  pas 
sions  and  purposes." 

Without,  the  tumult  had  ceased,  and  he  re 
solved  to  gain  his  own  room.  The  day  was 
passing,  and  he  had  much  to  do.  Not  to  risk 
something  was  to  lose  everything.  He  had 
drawn  the  bolt  and  his  hand  was  on  the  door, 
when  it  trembled  under  the  blow  of  a  sword. 
He  recoiled  a  step,  his  fingers  closed  on  the 
pearl ;  the  door  was  thrust  open,  and  the  Gas 
con  stood  on  the  threshold.  His  sword  was  in 
his  hand,  and  others  pressed  behind  him.  The 
prior  stood  speechless  ;  he  had  the  appearance 
of  a  mute,  whose  emotions  betray  themselves  only 
by  convulsive  expressions  of  the  face. 

"  Ah,  Monseigneur,"  cried  the  Gascon,  un 
covering  himself  as  he  advanced,  "  we  were  seek 
ing  thee  everywhere.  The  monk  that  was  with 
thee  hath  stabbed  a  woman  of  the  princesses' 
household.  We  have  him  fast,  and  he  sends  for 
thee." 


308  PASSE  ROSE. 

For  a  moment  the  prior  experienced  an  in 
tense  joy,  the  satisfaction  of  having  escaped  an 
imminent  peril,  before  which  every  preoccupa 
tion  vanished.  "  It  is  not  possible,"  he  said, 
with  a  foolish  smile.  "  What  woman  ?  " 

"  If  thou  wilt  come  with  us,  Monseigneur,  I 
will  show  thee,"  pursued  the  Gascon,  leading  the 
way,  and  eager  to  relate  his  story.  "  We  were 
of  the  watch  at  the  palace  gate.  There  came  a 
cry  from  without " 

"  What  woman  ?  "  repeated  Sergius,  following 
the  Gascon's  hurried  step.  His  agitation  had 
returned  again. 

"  The  Saxon  whom  the  queen  brought  with 
her  from  Ehresberg.  Dead,  Monseigneur,  dead. 
She  came  from  Frankenburg  with  a  page  after 
sundown.  The  page  says  she  went  out  again. 
Well,  there  was  a  cry,  and  we  ran  out.  She  lay 
in  the  square  midway,  between  the  gate  and  the 
church;  the  monk  stood  over  her.  Her  gar 
ments  were  soaked  with  blood,  like  water,  — 
aye,  and  there  was  water,  too.  We  bore  her  to 
the  guard-room,  and  laid  her  on  the  trencher, 
thinking  her  dead.  Suddenly  her  eyes  opened, 
like  a  spring.  I  asked  her  who  had  done  her 
injury.  With  that  she  raised  herself,  and  cried, 
'  The  king !  the  king ! '  Then  her  lips  curled 
from  her  teeth,  and  she  fell  back,  dead,  Mon 
seigneur,  dead,  like  that,"  and  the  Gascon 


PAS8E  ROSE.  309 

clacked  his  tongue,  making  a  quick  gesture  of 
the  hand. 

"  Dead  ?  "  repeated  Sergius.  "  It  is  not  pos 
sible,  —  it  is  not  possible." 

"  Aye,  and  from  a  little  cut  on  the  wrist,  no 
bigger  than  a  thorn  would  make.  But  the 
water,  Mon seigneur,  the  water,  —  how  explain 
that  ?  She  was  drenched,  like  a  ewe  fallen  into 
a  pit.  The  monk  answers  nothing,  yet  his  robe 
is  smeared  with  blood.  The  devil  is  in  it,  —  I 
will  tell  thee  why.  There  came  a  girl  to-night, 
with  an  old  woman,  asking  for  the  captain,  Gui 
of  Tours,  the  same  who  was  hurt  by  the  boar 
yesterday.  For  a  jest,  Monseigneur,  just  for  a 
jest,  thinking  her  some  wench  late  abroad,  I 
caught  her  by  the  waist,  and  I  swear  to  thee 
her  touch  was  fire.  Before  I  could  loose  her 
she  had  gotten  from  me  that  the  captain  was 
at  Frankenburg,  —  the  words  slipped  from  my 
tongue  like  a  tear  from  an  eye.  But  I  saw  her 
face,  —  oh,  I  saw  it  well.  Dost  thou  remember 
the  day  I  came  with  the  captain  to  Maestricht, 
—  when  this  monk  returned  with  us  ?  As  we 
went  down  the  hill,  a  demon  appeared  to  him  in 
the  hedge  by  the  roadside,  —  a  demon  having 
the  form  of  a  young  girl.  It  is  likely  enough, 
for  when  the  captain  returned  from  pursuing 
her  he  was  like  a  man  in  wine.  I  tell  thee, 
Monseigneur,  this  selfsame  girl  —  witch  or  girl 


310  PASSE  ROSE. 

I  know  not  —  came  to  Immaburg,  whether  for 
the  captain  or  the  monk,  I  cannot  say.  As  I 
stood  in  the  court  waiting  for  the  women  —  it 
was  the  night  we  came  hither  —  the  captain 
issued  from  the  chapel  with  the  girl  in  his  arms. 
I  thought  her  then  certainly  to  be  flesh  and 
blood,  and  made  a  place  for  her,  as  the  captain 
bade  me.  But  on  the  road,  by  the  ford  of  the 
Wurm,  she  escaped,  like  a  smoke.  For  two 
hours  we  searched ;  not  a  trace.  Hard  by  is  a 
tower,  where,  they  say,  demons  congregate. 
Well,  —  wilt  thou  believe  it?  —  it  was  this  girl 
that  came  to-night.  Here,  Monseigneur,  this 
way." 

The  court  of  the  palace  was  thronged  with 
people  gazing  at  the  horsemen  of  the  king's 
guard,  drawn  up  within  and  waiting  for  the  or 
der  to  set  out  on  the  road  to  Colonia,  by  which 
the  King  of  Italy  was  approaching.  To  escape 
the  crowd,  the  Gascon  entered  the  guard-room 
by  a  side  door.  A  few  soldiers  and  attendants, 
on  whose  faces  were  blended  expressions  of  cu 
riosity  and  apprehension,  were  whispering  to 
gether  in  low,  excited  tones  as  they  entered. 
Seeing  the  prior's  robe,  those  nearest  him  drew 
back,  signed  themselves,  and  ceased  their  con 
versation.  Following  his  conductor,  Sergius  ad 
vanced  without  regarding  them.  At  the  thresh 
old  of  the  adjoining  room  the  Gascon  paused. 


PASSE  ROSE.  311 

"  Enter,  Monseigneur,"  he  said,  lifting  the  cur 
tain.  The  prior  took  a  step  forward,  and  stood 
still.  Before  him  was  a  table  surrounded  by 
women,  and  on  the  table  a  body,  partially  naked. 
Seeing  the  priest,  one  of  the  women  spread  a 
cloth  hastily  over  the  body,  and  drew  it  to  the 
chin.  Vessels  of  water  and  spiced  wine  stood 
on  the  floor  near  the  wall.  Sergius  saw  every 
thing,  yet  he  had  not  taken  his  eyes  from  the 
heap  of  clothing  on  which  they  were  fixed  :  a 
dress  soaked  with  water ;  a  sandal,  its  silver  lac 
ings  soiled  with  mud,  protruding  from  an  under- 
tuiiic  stiffened  with  blood ;  and  fragments  of  a 
tissue  veil.  And  suddenly,  out  of  that  stained, 
disordered  heap,  Rothilde  rose  before  him,  as  he 
had  seen  her  sitting  on  the  lid  of  the  king's  sar 
cophagus,  warm  with  life,  the  veil  about  her 
throat,  the  fillet  in  her  hair,  her  eyes  shining 
upon  him  from  between  the  folds  of  her  head- 
cloth.  As  if  fearful  of  awakening  some  one 
asleep,  the  women  drew  back  on  tiptoe,  trans 
formed  by  the  presence  of  death,  —  death,  so 
common  yet  so  wonderful,  so  simple  yet  so  mys 
terious.  With  a  deep-drawn  breath,  the  prior 
looked  up  to  the  face  on  which  the  candles 
shone.  No  trace  of  terror,  pain,  or  passion  dis 
figured  it.  A  serenity  no  sleep  can  counterfeit, 
no  emotion  could  disturb,  reigned  there.  Yet 
this  face,  this  form  outlined  under  the  sinister 


312  PASSE  ROSE. 

drapery  of  the  linen  drawn  over  the  limbs,  had 
no  reality  for  him  ;  he  saw  only  the  slender,  sup 
ple  figure  balanced  on  the  edge  of  the  king's 
sarcophagus,  the  face  insolent  with  joy,  whose 
eyes  menaced  him  by  the  tower  on  the  Wurm. 

"  Monseigneur,"  said  a  voice  behind  him. 

At  its  sound  these  visions  vanished,  and  the 
reality  was  before  him  —  clay  to  be  washed  and 
anointed  with  spices.  She  was  not  there. 
Where,  then  ?  Did  she  see  him  now  ? 

"  Monseigneur." 

The  prior  turned  quickly.  The  Gascon  stood 
in  the  doorway,  and  behind  him  the  chief  of  the 
king's  pages.  Why  did  they  observe  him  so  ? 
They  stood  aside  as  he  passed  out,  and  he  crossed 
the  guard-room  to  the  door  by  which  he  had  en 
tered.  Against  this  door  leaned  a  soldier,  who 
looked  at  the  wet  skirt  of  his  robe  as  he  ap 
proached. 

"  Show  me  to  the  monk,"  he  said,  turning  to 
the  Gascon.  He  thought  the  latter  followed 
him,  but  now  he  perceived  that  he  was  alone  in 
the  middle  of  the  room. 

"  Monseigneur,"  said  the  Gascon,  with  a  po 
liteness  which  affected  him  strangely,  "  it  is  no 
longer  the  monk  who  desires  to  see  thee." 

"  Who,  then  ?  "  stammered  the  prior. 

"  Monseigneur,  the  king." 


PASSE  ROSE.  313 


XXIII. 

The  king  had  risen  from  table  and  entered  his 
cabinet. 

One  might  have  known  this  from  the  murmur 
of  voices  in  the  dining-hall,  indicating  that  the 
officers  of  the  palace  had  succeeded  their  royal 
master  at  table ;  for  when  the  king  was  eating, 
the  silence  of  the  room  was  broken  only  by 
those  who  served,  and  by  the  voice  of  the  clerk 
on  the  estrade,  reading  from  the  Frankish  chron 
icles  or  the  works  of  the  saints.  One  might 
have  known  it  also  from  the  demeanor  of  those 
who  crossed  the  court  without.  The  boldest  in 
mate  of  the  palace,  seeing  the  curtain  drawn  aside 
from  the  circular  window  over  the  south  portal, 
hurried  about  his  business  with  the  conscious  air 
of  one  who  is  observed;  for  this  window  was 
like  the  lens  of  a  telescope,  and  this  curtain  like 
the  cap  which  covers  the  lens.  When  the  cur 
tain  was  drawn  aside,  one  knew  the  king's  eye 
was  there. 

A  single  door,  covered  by  a  tapestry  sown 
with  lions  and  bordered  with  marigolds,  gave  ac 
cess  to  the  room  from  the  royal  sleeping-cham 
ber.  A  chair  standing  habitually  in  the  em 
brasure  of  the  window,  a  stool  and  reading-desk 
near  the  chair,  a  wooden  bench  beside  the  fire- 


314  PASSE  ROSE. 

place,  and  two  cushions  of  silk  on  the  floor  were 
its  only  furniture.  Smoke  had  darkened  the 
rafters  overhead,  their  gilded  edges  and  the  ro 
settes  painted  in  orange  on  the  pale  sea-green  of 
the  intervening  spaces  being  scarcely  visible. 
A  single  window,  too,  lighted  the  room;  but 
this  window  redeemed  it.  Gloomy  and  dark 
within  as  the  tube  of  the  telescope,  through  this 
its  lens  one  saw,  below,  the  court ;  above,  be 
yond  the  roofs,  a  green  circle  of  wooded  hills ; 
and,  higher  still,  the  heaven-fields,  which  the 
king  loved  to  scan  at  night,  when  the  watchman 
cried  the  hours  to  the  stars. 

Spread  open  upon  the  reading-desk  lay  the 
king's  favorite  book,  the  City  of  God  of  St.  Au 
gustine,  from  which  a  clerk  was  reading  aloud 
in  slow,  monotonous  tones,  glancing  between  the 
periods  from  the  immobile  figure  in  the  chair  to 
a  young  girl,  who,  seated  on  the  cushion  at  its 
feet,  caught  every  word  as  it  fell  from  his  lips. 
A  tunic  of  white  silk  shot  with  silver  threads, 
which  glistened  like  frost,  reached  to  her  feet, 
and  descended  in  rolls  to  the  wrists,  where  it 
ended  in  broad  bands  of  fine  pearls.  A  like 
band  terminated  the  garment  at  her  throat,  and 
still  another,  narrower,  but  with  larger  pearls, 
spaced  at  equal  intervals,  confined  a  thin  veil 
about  the  temples.  This  veil,  covering  the  hair 
and  shoulders,  and  embroidered  with  flowers  of 


PASSE  ROSE.  315 

a  lustrous  white  silk,  sparkled  in  the  sun,  which, 
now  nearly  vertical,  began  to  enter  the  window, 
creeping  slowly  up  the  carved  pillars  of  the 
king's  chair  to  the  crystal  balls  which  terminated 
its  arms.  Her  hands  clasped  about  her  knee, 
her  eyes  riveted  upon  the  reader's  face,  the 
young  girl  listened  intently,  unmindful  of  the 
king's  gaze,  her  whole  attention  absorbed  by 
what  she  heard. 

"  Who,  indeed,  can  enumerate  all  the  great 
grievances  with  which  human  society  abounds  in 
the  misery  of  this  mortal  state?  Who  can 
weigh  them  ?  Hear  how  one  of  their  comic 
writers  makes  one  of  his  characters  express  the 
common  feeling  of  all  men  in  this  matter  :  4 1 
am  married  :  this  is  one  misery.  Children  are 
born  tome:  they  are  additional  cares.'  What 
shall  I  say  of  the  miseries  of  love,  which  Ter 
ence  also  recounts  ?  —  4  slights,  suspicions,  quar 
rels.'  " 

Sighing  at  these  words,  as  if  they  were  her 
own  utterance,  the  listener  lifted  her  eyes  to  the 
king,  and,  seeing  his  clear,  penetrating  gaze 
fixed  upon  her,  blushed,  and  turned  her  face  to 
the  window. 

Her  body  was  frail,  and  slender  as  a  flower's 
stem,  and  his  rugged  and  robust,  like  a  stout 
blade  beaten  into  shape  under  the  blows  of  a 
forging  hammer ;  the  eyes  of  each  were  great 


316  PASSE  ROSE. 

and  gray,  but  hers  soft  as  a  falcon  in  mew,  and 
his  keen  as  a  hawk  trussing;  her  skin,  softer 
than  the  tissue  of  her  silken  garment,  was 
scarcely  less  white,  and  his,  bronzed  by  many 
winds  and  suns,  was  darker  than  the  brown 
moustache,  which,  thick  and  strong  like  the 
brows  and  hair,  overshadowed  the  firm  lines  of 
the  mouth.  Where  the  subtle  likeness  between 
the  two  hid  were  hard  to  say,  though  it  struck 
the  shallowest  observer  at  a  glance. 

His  hands  resting  on  the  crystal  balls,  the 
king  watched  the  averted  face,  while  the  voice 
of  the  reader  pursued  its  even  way :  — 

"  Who  ought  to  be,  or  who  are,  more  friendly 
than  those  who  live  under  the  same  roof  ?  And 
yet,  who  can  rely  even  upon  this  friendship, 
seeing  that  secret  treachery  has  often  destroyed 
it,  producing  enmity  even  more  bitter  than  the 
amity  was  sweet  "  — 

"  Turn  over  some  pages,"  said  the  clear  voice 
of  the  king.  It  was  scarcely  four  years  since 
the  conspiracy  of  his  first-born. 

Startled  by  this  interruption,  the  clerk  has 
tened  to  obey,  fumbling  the  leaves  of  the  manu 
script  between  his  thick  fingers,  and  casting  fur 
tive  glances  from  its  yellow  pages  to  the  king, 
—  that  king  so  imposing  to  the  historian,  the 
creator  rather  than  the  product  of  an  epoch, 
greater  in  authentic  annals  than  in  the  epics  to 


PASSE  ROSE.  317 

which  his  greatness  gave  rise,  a  sun  shining  be 
tween  the  two  nights  of  barbarism  and  feudality. 
At  the  sound  of  the  king's  voice,  the  young 
girl  had  looked  up  quickly,   but  the  eyes  she 
sought  were  far  away  upon  the  hills.     Of  what 
was  he  thinking?     Of   that   nest  of   Bavarian 
hate  and   perfidy  mothered    by  Luitberg,  who 
had  never  forgotten  his  insult  to  her  race  in  the 
divorce  of  her  sister  and  the  overthrow  of  the 
house  of  Lombardy  ?     But  this  nest  of  conspir 
acy  had  been   destroyed,  and  its  inmates  had 
followed  the  Lombard  kings  and  the  dukes  of 
Aquitania  into  the  tomb  of  the  monastery.     Did 
he  hear  beyond  those  hills,  from   the   heart  of 
Germany,  the  sullen  murmur  of  moving  peoples  ? 
But  this  murmur  was  hushed.     One  by  one  his 
environing  enemies,  Saxon,  Tartar,  and  Slav  on 
the   north   and    east,   Lombard,    Saracen,    and 
Aquitanian    on    the    south    and     west,  holding 
France  as  in  the  jaws  of  a  vise,  had   been  re 
duced  to  vassalage.     The  Saxon  dream  of  inde 
pendence  was  over,  and  their  tireless  leader,  dis 
couraged  at  last  by  reverses,  had  been  baptized 
at   Attigny.     Thrice    conquered,    the    Huns  lay 
powerless  between  the  newly  constituted  duchies 
of  Frioul  and  Bavaria.     Not  in   vain  had  the 
Holy  Pontiff  appealed  to  the  Frankish  monarch  ;       1 
he  feared  no  longer  to  see  the  Saracen  under  the 
walls  of  Rome,  or  the  galleys  of  Irene  in  the 


318  PASSE  ROSE. 

Bay  of  Tarentum.  Irene  herself  trembled  in 
her  palace  of  Byzantium  ;  for  the  tread  of 
Frankish  horsemen  was  heard  on  the  banks  of 
the  Save,  and  terror  reigned  in  Thrace  and 
Macedonia. 

Although  the  clerk,  having  discovered  a  more 
agreeable  chapter,  continued  tranquilly  his  read 
ing,  the  king  was  apparently  not  listening.    Did 
he  see  beyond  those  hills  the  shadows  of  great 
disasters  yet  below  the  horizon  ?   But  the  West 
ern  Church  and  State  were  unifying,  their  East 
ern   rivals  disintegrating.     If  this  church  'was 
still  blinded   by  superstition,  if  this  monarchy 
was   still   weighted   by   abuses,  yet   decay  had 
given  place  to  organization,  sterility  to  life  ;  if 
this  kingdom  was  yet  to  be  torn  in  fragments, 
its   hitherto  fluctuating  boundaries  had  become 
fixed.     The  sun  rose  on  a  world  of  hope.     The 
prophetic    dream    of    the    Thuringian   Bazine, 
mother  of  Clovis,  on  the  night  of  her  nuptials, 
had  been  fulfilled,  —  her  race  had  descended  into 
the  cloister,  then  the  sepulchre  of  incompetency 
and  fallen  greatness  ;  and  now  was  being  accom 
plished  that  other  prophecy,  of  Strabo,  who  fore- 
i  saw  in  Gaul  the  seat  of  a  great  empire. 

Ordinarily,  the  king  observed  with  interest 
what  was  passing  in  the  court  below,  now  filling 
with  the  motley  concourse  of  strangers  .come  to 
witness  the  approaching  f$tes.  The  vast  build- 


PASSE  ROSE.  319 

ings  surrounding  the  palace,  erected  for  the  ac 
commodation  of  those  who  for  any  cause  of  in 
terest  or  shelter  flocked  to  the  royal  residence, 
overflowed  with  visitors  from  every  part  of  the 
kingdom,  curious  to  see  the  booty  and  captives 
which  the  young  King  of  Italy  brought  his  fa 
ther.  Never  had  the  city  swarmed  with  so  many 
people,  never  had  so  many  illustrious  personages 
gathered  in  the  capital  of  the  western  world. 
Neustrian  and  Austrasian  lords,  who  for  so  long 
had  mutually  despised  each  other,  the  one  for 
his  effeminacy,  the  other  for  his  barbarism,  now 
united  under  a  single  sway,  mingled  freely  with 
polished  Southern  nobles  and  blunt  warriors 
from  provinces  beyond  the  Ehine.  The  most 
extravagant  stories  of  the  riches  of  the  ring, 
plundered  by  the  victorious  Pepin,  circulated 
from  mouth  to  mouth  ;  descriptions  of  the  Hun- 
nish  captives,  their  savage  appearance,  braided 
locks,  and  dress  of  furs,  were  on  every  tongue. 
One  could  scarcely  wait  to  see  these  spoils  of 
conquest,  to  gloat  over  these  haughty  prisoners. 
Tables  were  being  placed  in  the  streets,  before 
the  doors  of  the  houses  ;  the  buildings  were  be 
ing  decorated  with  colored  cloths  ;  and  from  the 
lofty  poles  erected  between  the  palace  and  the 
gate  of  Colonia  were  to  be  displayed  enormous 
paintings,  representing  the  history  of  the  world 
from  the  temptation  of  Paradise  to  the  present 


320  PASSE  HOSE. 

time.  Already  workmen  were  preparing  in  the 
great  square  the  tribunes  from  which  the  court 
was  to  witness  the  entry,  and  trenchers  at  which 
the  army  was  to  feast  by  torchlight  after  the  Te 
Deum  in  the  basilica  of  the  Mother  of  God. 
These  streets  were  soon  to  be  strewn  with  flow 
ers,  these  tables  to  be  covered  with  chased  dishes 
filled  with  meats  and  running  with  wine,  this 
square  to  resound  with  shouts  of  rejoicing  ;  and 
every  eye  was  beginning  to  glitter  with  the  fever 
ish  light  of  impatience  and  expectation. 

So  many  people  circulated  about  the  gate  and 
filled  the  court  that  none  gave  heed  to  a  girl, 
who,  pressing  through  this  concourse  of  curious 
loiterers,  made  her  way  to  the  door  under  the 
south  gallery,  where  the  guards  with  difficulty 
prevented  the  crowd  from  invading  the  palace 
itself.  She  had  dismounted  from  her  horse  in 
the  street,  and,  guided  by  the  exclamations  and 
fragmentary  sentences  of  those  about  her,  ad 
vanced  resolutely  to  the  bronze  gates,  where  the 
crowd  was  densest.  These  gates  opened  upon 
the  spacious  stairway  leading  from  the  gallery  to 
the  audience  chamber. 

"  They  say  the  king  is  there,"  said  one,  point 
ing  to  the  window  above. 

"  Is  it  true  the  army  is  but  a  day's  march  — 
Seigneur  !  take  thine  elbows  from  my  ribs  !  " 
exclaimed  another  to  his  neighbor,  who  was  for- 


PASSE  ROSE.  321 

cing  his  way  excitedly  towards  the  soldier  guard 
ing  the  door. 

"  Let  him  pass  !  "  cried  a  third,  holding  back. 
"  I  heard  him  tell  an  officer  that  his  wife  was 
lost  in  the  press." 

Passe  Rose  turned,  and  saw  Werdric.  He 
also  recognized  her,  but  at  the  same  moment 
a  cry  arose  from  behind,  and  the  surge  of  the 
crowd  swept  them  asunder.  This  cry  was  due 
to  the  opening  of  the  gates  leading  to  the  stables, 
whence  a  troop  of  horse  issued  into  the  court, 
already  thronged.  It  was  the  royal  guard  going 
out  to  meet  the  young  king  on  the  road  to  Colo- 
nia.  Beset  by  the  swaying  mass  and  excited  by 
the  tumult,  the  horses  threatened  to  trample 
those  nearest  them  under  foot,  and  their  leader 
called  to  those  about  the  gates  to  clear  a  passage 
with  their  lances.  Seeing  the  attention  of  all 
diverted  and  the  bronze  doors  momentarily  de 
serted,  Passe  Rose  pushed  the  heavy  panel  far 
enough  to  slip  within,  and  without  pause  or  de 
liberation  ran  up  the  broad  stairs  she  saw  before 
her.  At  their  summit  extended  a  long  corridor, 
down  which  she  advanced  hurriedly,  till  the 
clamor  of  many  voices  and  the  metallic  ring  of 
dishes  caused  her  to  retreat.  Passing  thus 
quickly  from  the  noise  and  light  without  into  the 
gloom  and  solitude  within,  she  heard  every  heart 
beat,  and  felt  her  courage  desert  her.  At  the 


322  PASSE  ROSE. 

sound  of  approaching  footsteps,  she  began  to 
run,  and  at  the  first  door  she  met  glided  behind 
its  tapestry  screen.  This  door  gave  access  to 
the  great  hall  where  the  noble  youth  of  the  king 
dom  assembled  to  listen  to  the  teachings  of  the 
school  of  the  palace,  and  adjoined  the  private 
apartments  of  the  king.  Passe  Rose  had  no 
sooner  lifted  the  curtain  than  she  saw  a  page, 
who,  sitting  on  the  floor  at  the  entrance  of  the 
passage  to  the  king's  chamber,  was  amusing  him 
self  with  a  parchment,  from  which  hung  a  mul 
titude  of  tasseled  strings.  Seeing  that  she  was 
observed,  she  went  forward  timidly,  gaining 
courage,  however,  at  sight  of  the  pretty  face  of 
the  boy.  The  latter,  whose  duty  it  was  to  sum 
mon  the  chaplain  when  the  king  had  finished  his 
reading,  occupying  himself  with  no  business  but 
his  own,  evinced  only  a  lively  curiosity  in  the 
young  girl,  whose  presence  promised  to  relieve 
the  tedium  of  his  waiting.  Passe  Rose,  on  her 
side,  having  no  fear  of  a  boy,  approached  with  all 
the  unconcern  she  could  affect,  smiling,  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  silken  fringe,  but  alert  for  every 
sound. 

"  What  hast  thou  there  ?  "  she  asked,  stooping 
over  the  parchment  in  the  boy's  hands. 

"  The  Oracle  of  Truth,"  he  replied,  looking 
up  into  her  face. 

"  The  Oracle  ?  "  whispered  Passe  Rose,  glan- 


PASSE  ROSE.  323 

cing  sidewise  through  the  doorway.    "  Pray  what 
is  that  ?  " 

"  Choose  one  of  these  strings,"  said  the  boy. 
Passe  Rose  reached  out  her  hand.  "  Nay,  shut 
thine  eyes,  then  choose,  and  I  will  tell  thee  what 
will  befall." 

"  Canst  thou  read  ? "  asked  Passe  Rose,  ob 
serving  the  characters  on  the  parchment. 

"Nay,  but  I  know  the  answers  by  heart. 
This  one  with  the  blue  string  reads  thus  :  '  Be 
ware  :  after  honey,  gall!'  But  choose;  only 
close  thine  eyes." 

Forgetting  for  the  moment  her  purpose,  and 
fascinated  by  the  mysterious  parchment,  Passe 
Rose  shut  her  eyes,  and,  first  signing  herself, 
touched  one  of  its  pendent  strings.  "  What  is 
it  ?  "  she  asked,  opening  her  eyes  and  bending 
forward  with  anxiety. 

The  boy  clapped  his  hands,  laughing.  "  The 
yellow,  the  yellow  !  What  luck !  See,"  —  point 
ing  with  his  finger,  —  "  '  A  great  happiness  is  on 
its  way  to  thee.'  " 

Passe  Rose  stood  up,  her  eyes  dilating,  her  bo 
som  swelling.  She  could  not  speak.  This  great 
hall  was  not  large  enough  for  her  to  breathe 
in.  Stooping  quickly,  she  kissed  the  boy's  face, 
then  disappeared  in  the  corridor  which  led  to 
the  chamber  of  the  king. 

"Ho!     Knowest    thou  not   he   is  within?" 


324  PASSE  ROSE. 

called  the  page.  Passe  Rose  neither  paused  nor 
turned.  "  Ho,  I  tell  thee  !  "  he  called  again, 
springing  to  his  feet.  But  Passe  Rose  had  al 
ready  disappeared.  "  Seigneur  !  "  cried  the  boy, 
terrified  by  such  audacity,  and  running  across 
the  hall  to  tell  the  chief  of  the  pages  that  a 
strange  girl  had  entered  the  sleeping-chamber  of 
the  king. 

On  emerging  from  the  obscurity  of  the  passage 
way  into  the  light,  Passe  Rose  was  still  smiling. 
She  paused  a  moment  on  the  threshold  of  the 
chamber,  then  stepped  upon  its  mosaic  floor,  and 
stood  still  again.  The  room  was  empty,  yet,  as 
when  gazing  at  the  altar  in  the  chapel  of  Im- 
maburg,  sure  of  some  invisible  presence,  she 
searched  its  length  and  breadth,  her  heart  beat 
ing  fast  with  expectation,  and  her  members  numb 
with  awe.  Before  her  was  the  king's  bed,  low  and 
wide,  with  its  ermine  cover  and  pillows  of  broid- 
ered  silk,  partly  concealed  by  curtains  hung  from 
swinging  rods.  On  the  floor  beside  it  stretched 
the  red  skin  of  a  fox,  and  upon  the  table  stood 
the  king's  cup  and  the  candelabrum,  whose  six 
candles  of  wax  indicated  the  hour  of  the  day ; 
for  the  king  had  not  yet  received  the  famous 
brass  water-clock,  damaskeened  with  gold,  pre 
sented  to  him  by  the  Caliph  Aroun-al-Raschid, 
whose  falling  balls  sounded  the  hours  night  and 
day.  Three  of  these  candles  were  already  con- 


PASSE  ROSE.  325 

sumed  ;  it  would  therefore  be  more  than  an  hour 
before  the  king  would  send  for  his  chaplain. 
From  the  bed  Passe  Hose's  eyes  followed  the 
tapestry  which  hid  the  wall  to  the  height  of  her 
shoulders,  and  above  which  a  carved  shelf  made 
the  circuit  of  the  apartment.  Behind  the  objects 
upon  this  shelf  the  walls  displayed  flowers, 
painted  in  red  and  yellow  and  other  colors,  of 
such  marvelous  forms  and  hues  that  Passe  Kose 
could  think  of  nothing  but  the  beautiful  fields  of 
Paradise.  Moreover,  above  the  door  opposite 
her  she  saw  an  image  of  the  blessed  St.  Martin, 
who  divided  his  cloak  with  a  beggar ;  and  the 
face  of  this  image,  rudely  carved  though  it  was, 
certainly  smiled  upon  her,  while  its  lips,  albeit 
of  wood,  moved  visibly,  as  if  saying,  "  A  great 
happiness  is  on  its  way  to  thee."  Persuaded 
that  the  saint  really  addressed  her,  she  ap 
proached,  her  two  hands  crossed  upon  her  bo 
som,  when  she  perceived  that  the  sounds  came 
from  within  the  door,  and  suddenly  — 

"  Turn  over  some  pages,"  said  a  clear  voice, 
as  it  were  at  her  very  side. 

She  started  back,  but  catching  sight  again  of 
the  encouraging  countenance  of  the  saint,  mur 
mured  a  quick  prayer,  and  advancing  to  the  door 
laid  her  ear  close  to  the  golden  lions  of  the  tap 
estry.  Some  one  was  speaking.  She  held  her 
breath,  and  listened. 


326  PASSE  ROSE. 

"  But  now  as  regards  loftiness  of  place,  it  is 
altogether  ridiculous  to  be  so  influenced  by  the 
fact  that  the  demons  inhabit  the  air,  and  we  the 
earth,  as  to  think  that  on  that  account  they  are 
to  be  put  before  us  ;  for  in  this  way  we  put  all 
the  birds  before  ourselves.  But  the  birds,  when 
they  are  weary  with  flying,  or  require  to  repair 
their  bodies  with  food,  come  back  to  the  earth  to 
rest  or  to  feed,  which  the  demons,  they  say,  do 
not.  Are  they  therefore  inclined  to  say  that  the 
birds  are  superior  to  us,  and  the  demons  superior 
to  the  birds  ?  But  if  it  be  madness  to  think  so, 
there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  think  that,  on 
account  of  their  inhabiting  a  loftier  element,  the 
demons  have  a  claim  to  our  religious  submission." 

This  passage  excited  in  Passe  Rose  so  lively 
an  interest  that  she  forgot  everything.  Her 
face  flushed  redder  than  the  fabric  next  her 
cheek,  and  in  her  eagerness  to  catch  every  word 
she  parted  the  fringe,  revealing  to  the  reader  a 
pair  of  dark  eyes,  which  glistened  like  dew-drops 
among  the  silk  marigolds  of  the  tapestry.  Dis 
concerted  by  this  apparition,  the  clerk  paused. 

"  Read  on,"  said  the  king  sharply. 

The  clerk  would  have  obeyed,  but  the  place 
was  lost ;  in  vain  did  he  seek  it  with  his  finger, 
for  he  could  not  wrest  his  eyes  from  the  girl's 
face  ;  so  that  the  king,  following  his  gaze,  and 
turning  quickly,  discovered  Passe  Rose  standing 
terrified  in  the  doorway. 


PASSE  ROSE.  327 

Whether  because,  his  face  inspired  confidence 
(for  in  the  presence  of  some  we  are  at  our  best, 
as  in  that  of  others  every  good  quality  deserts 
us  without  reason),  or  whether  because  her 
courage  rose  when  put  to  the  proof,  no  sooner  did 
the  king's  eye  meet  hers  than  her  terror  left  her, 
and  with  a  firm  step  she  advanced  into  the  room, 
rendering  gaze  for  gaze.  She  had  taken  no 
thought  of  what  she  should  say,  but,  going  in, 
she  remembered  how,  when  a  little  girl  dancing 
before  Queen  Hildegarde  at  the  Easter  fetes,  a 
young  chamberlain  came  with  a  message,  and, 
bending  upon  one  knee,  said,  "  In  the  name  of 
God,  who  suffered  for  us,  I  salute  you  ;  "  and 
how  the  queen  made  answer,  "  In  the  name  of 
God,  who  was  our  ransom,  hail."  These  fine 
words  came  back  to  her  and  were  on  her  lips  as 
she  approached,  when,  just  beyond  the  king's 
chair,  she  saw  Agnes  of  Solier,  and  stopped, 
mute  and  staring.  A  hundred  times  the  space 
in  which  Passe  Rose  stood  thus  trembling  like  a 
tense  bowstring  would  not  suffice  to  tell  all  she 
felt  and  saw  in  that  moment  of  silence,  though 
in  reality  it  was  but  the  length  of  two  breaths. 
All  which  before  had  seemed  sure  and  easy  be 
came  suddenly  hopeless  and  of  no  avail,  while 
every  evil  fear  she  had  once  lightly  set  aside 
was  uppermost.  How  could  she  contend  with 
a  king's  daughter?  She  had  killed  the  queen's 


328  PASSE  ROSE. 

favorite !  What  if,  as  the  prior  had  said,  the 
papers  were  of  other  matters  ?  Who  would  then 
believe  her  ?  Where  were  her  witnesses  ?  It 
was  perhaps  a  dream,  and  she  made  a  little 
movement  of  the  fingers  to  feel  whether  the 
wounds  caused  by  the  Saxon's  knife  were  still 
there ;  seeing  at  the  same  time  the  white  hands 
of  Agnes  of  Solier  and  her  own,  brown  with  toil 
and  stained  with  blood.  A  confused  recollection 
of  what  the  clerk  had  read  crossed  her  mind. 
"  Demon  of  hell,"  whispered  a  voice  in  her  ear, 
"  the  abbot,  the  prior,  the  monk,  will  swear  to  it, 
and  the  captain  also,  whom  thou  hast  possessed." 
"  Aye,  whom  I  possess,"  she  replied  ;  and  she 
heard  the  page  saying  to  her,  "  A  great  happi 
ness  is  on  its  way  to  thee."  She  repeated  the 
words  softly,  "  A  great  happiness,  a  great  hap 
piness,"  as  if  they  could  conjure  away  her  fears, 
clinging  with  her  eyes  to  the  king,  and  resisting 
with  all  her  strength  the  challenging  gaze  of 
Agnes  of  Solier.  The  latter,  no  less  surprised 
than  Passe  Eose,  stared  back  in  wonder. 

"  Who  art  thou,  and  what  dost  thou  wish  ?  " 
asked  the  king,  astonished  at  her  sudden  appear 
ance  and  agitated  face. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice,  the  words  broke 
like  a  torrent  from  Passe  Rose's  lips :  "  This  one 
I  found  by  the  fish-ponds,"  —  she  had  thrust  the 
papers  in  his  hand,  —  "  and  this  the  Saxon  gave 


PASSE  ROSE.  329 

the  monk  for  the  prior.  Read,  read  !  "  and  draw 
ing  the  cord  through  the  wax  seal  with  her  trem 
bling  fingers,  she  spread  the  parchment  on  his 
knee.  "  I  was  in  the  tower ;  there  came  two, 
the  prior  and  another,  —  then  the  Saxon  maid 
who  sat  at  supper  at  Immaburg.  I  heard  what 
they  said.  Look  !  there  are  the  prints  of  her 
knife  !  the  knife  was  for  thee." 

"  Peace !  "  exclaimed  the  king,  rising  to  his 
feet,  and  crushing  the  parchment  in  his  hand. 
It  was  a  cry  rather  than  a  command,  for  inco 
herent  as  were  the  words  he  heard,  they  were 
sharper  than  any  knife  to  his  pride.  He  stood 
for  a  moment  in  doubt,  and  then,  as  if  convinced 
by  the  girl's  fearless  manner,  sank  back  into  his 
chair,  opening  the  papers  slowly,  and  fixing 
from  time  to  time,  as  he  read,  a  searching  look 
upon  Passe  Rose.  Her  heart  was  beating  vio 
lently,  but  her  fear  was  over,  and  she  watched 
the  king's  face  boldly.  Every  trace  of  anger 
and  distress  had  fallen  from  it,  as  a  mantle  falls 
from  the  shoulder  to  the  ground.  He  neither 
started  nor  frowned,  as  she  had  thought  to  see 
him  do ;  nevertheless,  she  was  content,  for  his 
eyes  were  good  to  look  at,  and  she  felt  the  hap 
piness  of  which  she  had  been  foretold  running, 
as  the  tide  runs  in  the  sea-meadows,  to  her  fin 
ger-tips.  She  wished  to  laugh  aloud,  to  dance, 
to  sing,  and  at  the  same  time  tears  of  which 


330  PASSE  ROSE. 

she  could  give  no  account  dimmed  her  vision, 
causing  the  garnet  in  the  clasp  of  the  king's 
cloak  to  swell  and  glisten  like  a  bubble  of  blood. 
She  heard  the  clerk  closing  his  book  and  retir 
ing  softly  behind  her,  but  when  the  king  turned 
to  Agnes  of  Solier  with  a  sign  that  she  should 
go  also,  Passe  Rose  reached  out  her  hand. 

"  I  pray  thee  let  this  lady  listen,"  she  said 
entreatingly. 

Surprised  beyond  measure,  the  king  knit  his 
brow,  looking  from  Passe  Rose's  eager  face  to 
the  flushed  countenance  of  Agnes  of  Solier,  who 
had  risen  to  her  feet,  and  stood  beside  his  chair, 
her  hand  resting  upon  his. 

"  Speak  on,"  he  said,  feeling  the  hand  trem 
bling  upon  his  own. 

Anxious  lest  his  patience  should  be  exhausted, 
divided  in  her  mind  as  to  what  was  trivial  and 
what  important,  Passe  Rose  began,  —  relating 
her  meeting  with  Gui  of  Tours  in  the  wood  of 
Hesbaye,  her  adventure  in  the  abbey  and  con 
sultation  with  the  sorceress  (though  this  were  a 
forbidden  thing),  and  then  her  return  to  the 
abbey  at  midnight  to  tell  Friedgis  what  the 
gospels  had  said,  and  how  the  captain  had  prom 
ised  to  seek  the  Saxon  maid  in  the  household  of 
the  king.  "  It  was  going  down  the  hill  after 
the  prior  was  gone  that  I  found  the  paper,"  she 
said,  pointing  to  the  parchment,  "  for  the  moon 
came  up  while  I  was  hid." 


PASSE  ROSE.  331 

So  candid  was  her  speech  and  so  eager  her 
haste  that  the  king  listened  in  silent  wonder, 
though  he  saw  her  oft  bewildered  between  two 
stories,  one  for  him  and  one  for  Agnes  of  Solier. 
But  here  she  paused,  and  a  sob  rose  in  her 
throat. 

"  Father  and  mother  have  I  none,"  she  con 
tinued,  "  because  of  the  pest ;  and  they  being 
dead,  I  went  wherever  the  wind  blew,  with 
dancing-girls  and  jugglers,  —  it  was  then  I 
danced  at  Chasseneuil,  before  Queen  Hildegarde, 
—  and  afterwards  with  merchants.  But  I 
parted  from  these  at  the  fair  of  St.  Denis  be 
cause  of  a  certain  Greek,"  —  here  Passe  Rose 
looked  full  at  Agnes  of  Solier ;  "  for  love  is 
like  God's  winds,  coming  at  no  man's  bidding 
and  dispelled  by  no  command,  except  it  be  the 
Christ's,  as  told  in  the  gospels.  Afterwards, 
till  now,"  — for  the  first  time  she  hesitated, — 
"  I  lived  with  Werdric,  the  goldsmith  of  Maes- 
tricht,  and  his  wife,  Jeanne,  till  —  till  I  came 
to  Immaburg." 

"  What  brought  thee  to  Immaburg  "  —  in 
terrupted  Agnes  of  Solier  quickly. 

The  question  was  rude,  and  Passe  Rose  grew 
hot  and  cold  by  turns.  A  defiant  light  flashed 
in  her  eyes,  but  she  kept  them  fixed  upon  the 
king.  "  If  one  should  mock  thee  to  thy  face, 
what  wouldst  thou  do  ?  "  she  said,  lip  and  voice 
quivering  together. 


332  PASSE  ROSE. 

"  By  the  Lord  of  heaven  !  "  cried  the  king 
startled  by  this  unexpected  question,  but  liking 
well  her  boldness,  "  were  I  the  stronger"  — 

"  Nay,  the  weaker." 

Perplexed,  the  king  observed  her  in  silence. 

"  When  I  returned  from  the  abbey,"  continued 
Passe  Rose  in  a  hard  voice,  "  the  night  was  far 
gone,  and  the  goldsmith  met  me  at  the  garden 
gate.  '  Wanton  !  '  he  said.  For  that  reason," 
looking  at  Agnes  of  Solier,  "  I  left  my  home, 
wandering  two  days  in  the  wood  of  Hesbaye, 
and  came  to  Immaburg,  as  thou  sawest,  not 
knowing  where  I  was.  There  it  was  I  first  saw 
the  Saxon  maid.  She  came  by  stealth  into  the 
strangers'  hall,  and  gave  these  papers  to  the 
monk  as  he  sat  by  the  fire,  bidding  him  deliver 
them  to  the  prior.  Why  I  took  them  from  him 
I  know  not,  except  it  were  God's  will,  for  I 
thought  no  more  of  them  till  yesternight,  being 
distraught  at  what  the  page  told  me." 

"  What  did  he  tell  thee  ?  "  asked  Agnes  of 
Solier. 

"  That  thou  wert  a  king's  daughter,  and  be 
trothed  to  Gui  of  Tours." 

The  king's  face  flushed  red,  but  Agnes  of 
Solier,  pale  as  the  holy  napkin,  neither  spoke 
nor  stirred. 

"What  happened  at  supper  thou  knowest," 
continued  Passe  Rose. 


PASSE  ROSE.  333 

"  But  what  happened  afterwards  I  know  not !  " 
cried  Agnes  of  Solier,  torn  between  her  jealousy 
and  her  pride. 

"I  am  come  to  tell  thee,"  answered  Passe 
Rose  with  dignity.     "  When  thou  wert  gone,  I 
said  to  the  captain,  4  Though  I  were  the  meanest 
slave  in  the  kingdom,  what  God  hath  given  the 
king's  daughter   he   hath   given  to  me,  and  I 
yield  it  to  none  except  at  his  altar/     With  that 
I  ran  to  the  chapel  to  pray  and  seek  counsel  of 
the  priest.     But  because  in  my  anger  I  had  cast 
down  the   image   of  the  Virgin  above  my  bed, 
God  would  not  listen  to  me ;  the  priest  at  Im- 
rnaburg  is  witness  that  he  took  away  my  senses, 
and  when  I  got  them  back  I  was  in  the  wagon 
on  the  high-road.     Dost  thou  remember  how  the 
stream  was  swollen  at  the  ford  ?     I  was  there, 
and  while  they  sounded  the  water  I  heard  the 
voices  of  women  in  the  wagon  next  to    mine. 
One  said  that  the   heart    of    the   captain  was 
plainly  mine,  and  could  not  be  had  of  me  for 
all  the  gold  of  the  Huns." 

"  Insolent !  "  murmured  Agnes  of  Solier, 
tightening  her  fingers  on  the  king's  hand.  But 
the  king,  chary  of  words,  waited. 

"Another,"  pursued  Passe  Rose,  "replied 
that  it  were  easier  for  a  dancing-girl  to  give  her 
self  to  a  captain  than  for  a  king's  daughter  to 
forget  an  injury.  «  Mark  well  what  I  tell  thee.' 


334  PASSE  ROSE. 

she  said :  c  one  hath  his  heart ;  the  other  will 
have  his  head.'  '  Liar ! '  I  said  to  myself. 
4  What  a  king's  daughter  will  do  I  know  not, 
but  what  a  dancing -girl  can  do  I  will  show 
thee.'  So,  when  the  ford  was  passed,  I  cut  a 
hole  through  the  skins  with  my  knife,  and  went 
mine  own  way." 

A  gesture  of  surprise  escaped  the  king,  who 
had  risen  from  his  chair,  and  was  pacing  slowly 
to  and  fro  between  the  door  and  the  window.  At 
this  moment  the  troop  was  filing  through  the 
archway  into  the  square,  and  the  Gascon,  fol 
lowed  by  the  prior,  was  opening  the  wicket  gate 
leading  to  the  room  where  the  body  of  Kothilde 
lay. 

It  were  idle  to  deny  that  Passe  Kose  was  con 
scious  of  the  greatness  of  her  action,  for  even 
the  angels  serve  God  with  pleasure  ;  and  if  it 
be  that  they  rejoice  over  the  sinner's  repentance, 
some  echo,  as  it  were,  of  this  rejoicing  is  borne  to 
the  soul  which  doeth  well,  for  its  encouragement 
and  satisfaction.  Yet  so  little  did  Passe  Rose 
think  to  win  applause  that  she  mistook  the  king's 
gesture  for  a  sign  of  impatience.  "  I  am  coming 
to  it  fast,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  parchment, 
and  hurrying  on  to  tell  how  she  hid  in  the  sheep- 
fold,  how  Jeanne  came  bereft  of  reason  and  with 
out  the  power  to  know  her  own,  and  all  she  saw 
and  heard  from  the  tower  while  Jeanne  slept. 


PASSE  HOSE.  335 

Not  once  during  this  recital  did  the  king  cease 
his  walk  or  lift  his  eyes  from  the  floor  till  Passe 
Rose  told  how  Friedgis  was  slain ;  "  I  heard  a 
sword  drawn,  and  the  rustle  of  leaves  under 
foot;  afterwards,  from  the  wood,  a  cry  —  and 
then  the  Saxon  maid  said  "  — 

She  stopped  short.  The  king  stood  before 
her,  his  brow  knit  as  with  pain  and  his  face 
gloomy  with  suppressed  passion.  "  Well,  what 
said  she  ?  "  he  asked,  fixing  upon  Passe  Rose  his 
piercing  eye. 

"  '  Bring  me  now  thy  Greek,  and  I  will  show 
him  the  way  to  the  king's  bed.' " 

The  king  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height. 
For  a  moment  he  was  silent,  his  eyes  shining 
with  points  of  flame.  Then  he  struck  his  palms 
together,  whispering  a  few  words  to  the  page 
who  at  this  signal  came  in  haste  from  the  adjoin 
ing  room,  and,  returning  to  the  window,  gazed 
thoughtfully  into  the  court. 

Passe  Rose,  motionless,  stood  speechless.  It 
was  one  of  those  silences  which  one  does  not  dare 
to  break.  "  Continue,"  said  the  king  at  length, 
in  a  calm  voice. 

"  When  the  Saxon  was  gone  into  the  wood, 
the  prior  concerted  with  his  companion  how  they 
should  get  the  papers  from  the  captain  that 
night,  by  fair  means  or  foul,"  pursued  Passe 
Rose,  stealing  a  glance  at  Agnes  of  Solier. 


336  PASSE  ROSE. 

" '  Ask  her  where  this  captain  lies,'  said  the 
soldier.  '  Nay,'  replied  the  prior,  '  it  will  alarm 
her.  Hist !  she  comes.' ' 

"  Aye,  she  comes,"  murmured  the  king,  beck 
oning  to  Passe  Rose.  "  See." 

Obeying  his  motion,  she  approached,  holding 
her  breath  with  the  presentiment  of  impending 
shock.  The  throng  had  followed  the  troop  into 
the  square,  and  the  court  was  empty.  From  the 
farther  angle  a  litter,  borne  by  soldiers,  issued 
from  the  shadow  of  the  gallery.  Over  the  litter 
a  cloth  was  spread,  and  on  the  cloth  a  cross  glit 
tered  in  the  sun. 

Passe  Rose,  leaning  forward,  drew  a  quick 
breath.  "  The  Saxon  !  "  she  whispered. 

"  Slain,  yesternight,  by  the  monk." 

"  By  the  monk !  "  gasped  Passe  Rose. 

"  Yonder,  in  the  square." 

"  Nay,  it  was  I ! "  she  cried  vehemently, 
grasping  the  king's  arm.  "  Look,  the  marks  of 
her  knife !  My  mother  spake  in  her  dreams 
when  the  prior  was  gone.  I  laid  my  hand  to 
her  mouth,  but  it  was  too  late.  Before  I  could 
get  to  my  knees,  she  "  —  pointing  to  the  bier  — 
"  was  on  the  stair.  I  caught  the  blade  in  my 
hand  as  her  blow  fell,  and  then  we  locked,  with 
out  breath  to  speak,  she  above,  and  I  below. 
God  is  my  witness  I  had  done  her  no  harm  but 
that  I  knew  she  or  I  must  die,  and  die  I  would 


PASSE  ROSE.  337 

not  till  the  captain  was  warned,  for  the  prior's 
words  were  in  my  ears.  Time  was  lacking  to 
pray,  but  I  saw  the  stars,  and  strained  leg  and 
arm  till  her  fingers  gave  way  and  my  throat  was 
free.  Then  I  stood  up  alone  —  how  it  happened 
I  know  not,  but  I  heard  the  waters  splash,  and, 
once,  a  cry."  She  stopped,  her  bosom  heaving, 
her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  litter.  "  Jesu  !  "  she 
murmured,  her  voice  falling  to  a  whisper,  "  it 
was  I." 

The  king  regarded  her  in  a  stupor  of  wonder 
and  admiration.  He  strode  back  and  forth  from 
wall  to  wall,  looking  now  at  Passe  Rose,  and 
now,  uneasily,  at  Agnes  of  Solier,  who,  pale  and 
speechless,  stared  back  with  eyes  of  stone.  Sud 
denly,  with  an  abrupt  gesture,  he  stopped  before 
Passe  Rose. 

"  If  the  King  of  heaven  gave  thee  thy  heart's 
wish,  what  wouldst  thou  ask  ?  " 

"The  reason  of  my  mother  Jeanne,"  said 
Passe  Rose. 

The  king  started.  "  I  will  ask  it  this  day  in 
my  prayers.  And  of  me  "  —  his  voice  trem 
bling  —  "  what  wouldst  thou  ?  " 

"  To  give  me  leave  to  go  in  peace  to  Maes- 
tricht,  and  then  to  send  thither  my  mother, 
whom  I  left  in  the  house  by  the  gate  at  Frank- 
enburg ;  for  if  she  see  me  in  the  garden  combing 
wool,  in  my  own  attire,  her  reason  will  return." 


338  PASSE  ROSE. 

"  Afterward,"  said  the  king,  a  shadow  of  vex 
ation  passing  over  his  face.  Indeed,  it  were 
hard  to  say  which  was  suitor  to  the  other,  for 
his  voice  faltered,  and  hers  was  firm  and  clear. 
"  That  is  not  all.  Afterward,"  he  repeated  im 
patiently. 

The  color  deepened  on  Passe  Kose's  cheeks, 
she  trembled  violently,  and,  no  longer  able  to 
support  his  gaze,  she  turned  her  shining  eyes 
to  Agnes  of  Solier,  and  threw  herself  at  her 
feet. 

"By  the  Mother  of  God!"  exclaimed  the 
king,  taking  Agnes  of  Solier's  hand  and  seating 
her  in  his  own  chair,  "  thou  art  right.  She  is 
a  king's  daughter.  Ask  her,  and  thou  shalt  see 
what  a  king's  daughter  can  do."  And  stooping 
to  Agnes  of  Solier,  he  kissed  her  on  the  fore 
head,  and  left  the  room. 

If  love  and  death  could  be  made  subject  to 
will  and  reason,  so  that  instead  of  loving  love 
and  fearing  death,  as  nature  and  instinct  compel 
us,  we  should  love  death  and  fear  love,  then  had 
Passe  Rose  never  gotten  from  her  knees  when 
the  Saxon's  knife  threatened  her,  nor  thrown 
herself  at  the  feet  of  Agnes  of  Solier.  But  in 
concerns  of  love  and  death  nature  is  stronger 
than  reason,  and  impulse  will  countervail  con 
sideration  ;  and  though  at  the  king's  going 
Passe  Rose  felt  shame  drying  the  source  of  her 


PASSE  ROSE.  339 

tears,  and  pride  nipping  the  buds  of  her  heart's 
promise,  yet,  "  If  I  rise,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"  all  is  lost ;  "  and  thus  bowed  down  by  the 
weight  of  her  love,  before  lesser  motives  could 
sway  her  she  felt  warm  arms  pressed  about  her 
neck,  her  face  was  drawn  upwards,  and  she  saw 
two  eyes  shining  in  tears  like  her  own.  No  word 
was  spoken.  They  thought  no  more  of  their 
grief  and  joy  than  of  the  coarse  wool  and  silken 
tissue  which  clothed  them,  but  like  two  naked 
souls  fresh  from  God's  hands  gazed  at  one  an 
other. 

"  Thou  hast  seen  him  ?  "  murmured  Agnes  of 
Solier.  Passe  Rose's  eyes  answered.  "  And  he 
loves  thee  —  he  has  told  thee  "  —  Passe  Rose 
buried  her  face  in  the  broidered  dress,  her 
shoulders  shaken  with  sobbing.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  she  could  not  bear  the  kiss  she  felt 
upon  her  hair,  nor  the  arms'  tender  pressure. 

"  By  the  Blessed  Jesus,"  she  exclaimed, 
struggling  to  her  feet,  "  would  I  might  die  for 
thee!" 

XXIV. 

On  the  day  Passe  Rose  appeared  before  the 
king,  the  twelve  psalms  were  recited  at  nones, 
and  prayers  were  said  in  commemoration  of 
Christ's  death,  in  presence  of  the  royal  house- 


340  PASSE  ROSE. 

hold,  the  king  himself  chanting  the  epistle  be 
fore  the  congregation,  who  wondered  at  his 
fervor.  And  though  no  mention  is  made  by 
the  chronicler  of  Passe  Rose,  who  knelt  beside 
Agnes  of  Solier  in  the  queen's  tribune,  I  had 
given  less  to  hear  the  king's  voice  than  to  know 
what  Passe  Rose  and  Agnes  of  Solier  said  to 
God  at  the  moment  indicated  by  the  rubric  in 
these  words  :  "  Here  speak  thyself  to  God,  and 
explain  to  Him  thy  need  as  thine  heart  shall 
prompt  thee." 

The  night  of  that  same  day,  also,  when  the 
lights  of  the  palace  were  extinguished  and  the 
city  slept,  the  king  rose  from  bed,  walking  to 
and  fro  like  one  troubled  in  mind.  But  I  had 
given  less  to  know  his  thoughts  than  to  know  of 
what  Passe  Rose  was  thinking,  as  she  lay  in  bed 
that  night  with  Agnes  of  Solier.  Was  it  for  joy, 
or  for  the  novelty  of  all  about  her,  or  for  awe  and 
love  of  her  bedfellow,  that  she  could  not  sleep  ? 
For  my  part,  I  think  it  was  because  of  an  image 
of  an  angel  standing  within  the  curtain  rail, 
whose  wings  were  of  silver  plates  so  cunningly 
riveted  that  they  seemed  ready  to  beat  the  air  ; 
and  that  in  her  dreams  she  took  this  image  for 
the  priest  coming  with  his  swinging  censer  to 
bless  her  nuptial  bed.  Else  why,  when  day  was 
come,  did  she  lie  abashed,  not  daring  to  move, 
watching  a  full  hour  its  silver  wings  ? 


PASSE  ROSE.  341 

There  was  marveling  among  the  queen's  wo 
men  to  see  this  stranger  with  Agnes  of  Solier. 
Gesualda's  eyes  were  big  with  wonder,  and  her 
tongue  could  scarce  keep  pace  with  her  conjec 
tures  or  with  the  gossip  whispered  around  her. 
It  was  said  the  king  had  recognized  Agnes  of 
Solier  to  be  his  daughter,  and  had  forbidden 
her  marriage  through  excess  of  affection,  as  in 
times  past  he  had  refused  Bertrade  to  Ethelwold 
of  Mercia,  and  Kotrude  to  the  Emperor  Con- 
stantine.  One  pretended  that,  having  proclaimed 
her  his  own  daughter,  he  would  wed  her  with  a 
greater  than  a  simple  captain ;  and  another, 
that  Gisla,  the  king's  sister,  had  persuaded  her 
to  leave  the  world,  and  that  to  this  end  the  king 
would  give  her  the  abbey  of  Poictiers.  Whether 
any  of  these  rumors  were  true  or  all  were  false, 
this  is  certain  (for  Gesualda  had  it  from  the 
chief  of  the  pages,  while  waiting  for  the  queen 
to  go  to  mass  on  the  morning  of  Pepin's  com 
ing) :  that  after  the  prayers  above  mentioned 
the  king,  being  alone  with  the  queen  in  her 
apartments,  sent  for  both  Agnes  of  Solier  and 
Passe  Kose ;  that  these  two  came  hand  in  hand, 
and  were  kissed  in  turn  by  the  queen  ;  and  that 
the  king  pressed  Passe  Rose  to  ask  his  favor  on 
whatever  her  heart  desired.  Whereupon  she 
made  answer  that,  of  all  things  she  had  ever 
desired,  to  do  her  own  pleasure  freely  for  a 


342  PASSE  ROSE. 

whole  hour  was  the  greatest.  "At  this,"  said 
the  page,  "  the  king  laughed,  and  gave  her  his 
signet  ring  till  night,  to  work  her  will  with  it 
as  she  pleased,  bidding  me  to  wait  upon  her." 

"  Holy  Virgin  !  "  gasped  Gesualda.  "  What 
did  she  ?  " 

"  First,  she  sent  for  the  young  page  Gerald, 
and  caused  to  be  written  for  him  an  order  on 
the  king's  treasury  for  a  hundred  sous,  'be 
cause,'  she  said,  4of  the  truth  spoken  by  the 
oracle.'  " 

"  What  oracle  ?  "  asked  Gesualda. 

"  All  I  know  I  tell  thee,"  replied  the  page. 
"  At  the  same  time,"  he  continued,  "  she  had 
another  written  for  a  woman  living  without  the 
gate,  by  the  ford  of  the  Wurm,  of  the  value  of 
a  young  Breton  colt  lost  in  the  king's  service. 
Then  she  inquired  for  a  certain  Gascon,  captain 
of  the  watch,  and  bade  me  fetch  him.  Thou 
shouldst  have  seen  the  fellow  when  he  saw  her  ! 
For  she  pretended  anger,  and,  showing  him  the 
ring,  asked  if,  being  bidden  by  the  king,  he 
would  now  kiss  a  demon.  At  this  he  began  to 
tremble  and  stammer,  and  she  to  laugh,  saying 
that  although  her  mouth  were  as  full  of  kisses 
as  her  heart  with  joy,  they  were  not  hers  to 
give,  but  that  she  would  forgive  his  rudeness  if 
he  would  bring  her  a  certain  goldsmith,  by 
name  Werdric,  living  in  Maestricht,  but  now 


PASSE  ROSE.  343 

searching  for  his  wife  Jeanne  in  the  city.  While 
the  Gascon  was  gone  she  went  to  the  new  ba 
silica,  leaving  me  at  the  door  to  wait  till  she  was 
come  out  again.  But  I  followed  her,  —  an  easy 
matter,  because  of  the  crowd,  —  and  saw  her  at 
the  altar  of  the  Virgin,  laying  there  a  collar  of 
gold  which  she  had  about  her  neck." 

"  I  remember,  I  remember,"  said  Gesualda. 

"Listen,"  continued  the  page,  lowering  his 
voice.  "As  we  came  back,  the  streets  being 
full  of  strangers,  —  what  thinkest  thou?  She 
laid  her  hand  upon  one  who  passed  near  us. 
'  Art  thou  not  the  Greek  expected  by  the  Prior 
Sergius  from  Pa  via?'  she  asked.  I  tell  thee 
the  fellow's  eyes  shone  with  pleasure  at  seeing 
her.  But  before  he  could  answer,  '  Thy  mission 
is  known  to  the  king,'  she  said.  4  Get  thee 
gone,  therefore,  if  thou  wouldst  save  thy  life, 
and  endeavor  also  to  save  thy  soul.  This  I  do 
for  no  love  of  thee,  but  because  thou  once 
lovedst  me,'  —  and  left  him  white  and  star- 
ing." 

"  Oh,  oh  !  "  murmured  Gesualda. 

"  Afterwards  the  Gascon  came,  saying  he  had 
the  goldsmith  below.  '  Knowest  thou  the  monk 
who  stabbed  the  Saxon  yesternight  ?  '  she  asked. 
At  which  he  replied  that  he  knew  him  well,  hav 
ing  seized  him  in  the  act.  4  Go  loose  him,'  she 
said,  showing  the  king's  signet  again,  '  and  say 


344  PASSE  ROSE. 

to  him  that,  being  by  age  and  learning  a  suit 
able  person,  the  queen  is  pleased  to  write  the  ab 
bot  to  make  him  deacon,  that  he  may  the  better 
serve  God  at  the  altar.  ...  I  would  have  him 
prior,'  she  said,  turning  to  me,  '  but  he  is  not 
fit;  it  were  better,  therefore,  to  leave  this  to 
God.'  Then  came  the  goldsmith,  and  this  man 
also  began  to  tremble  and  change  color  when  he 
saw  her,  and  suddenly  fell  on  his  knees,  crying, 
4  Pardon  !  '  '  Speak  no  more  of  it,'  she  said  ; 
'  the  curse  is  turned  to  blessing ;  but  get  thy 
mule  ready,  for  on  the  morrow  I  would  go  with 
thee  to  Maestricht,  and  Jeanne  will  follow.' " 

"  Hath  she  truly  gone  ?  "  asked  Gesualda. 

"This  very  morning,  as  she  said.  Here,  thy 
rein  !  "  cried  the  page,  for  he  stood  at  Gesual- 
da's  stirrup.  "  The  queen  comes."  As  he  spoke 
the  doors  were  thrown  open,  and  Liutgarde  ap 
peared  with  the  king's  daughters. 

"  Is  Agnes  among  them  ? "  asked  Gesualda, 
raising  herself  on  the  point  of  her  toe. 

"Aye,  behind,  to  the  left.  See,"  said  the 
page,  steadying  the  girl  with  his  arm.  "  Adieu." 
His  eyes  lingered  on  her  face.  "  Adieu,"  he  re 
peated,  seeking  her  hand  under  the  saddle  fringe. 

But  Gesualda's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  Agnes 
of  Solier.  "  By  Heaven  !  "  she  said  to  herself, 
"  she  hath  been  weeping." 

Who  will  may  read   in   the  chronicles  how 


PASSE  ROSE.  345 

Pepin  entered  Aix  with  files  of  captives  and 
chariots  loaded  with  treasure;  how  the  Kan 
Thudun  was  baptized  and  his  nobles  forswore 
their  idols ;  how  the  army  feasted  under  the  toss 
of  torches  ;  what  largesses  were  distributed  to 
the  Church  and  among  the  king's  vassals ;  and 
how,  in  memory  thereof,  Leo  caused  to  be  exe 
cuted  the  mosaic  representing  the  king  receiving 
from  the  hand  of  St.  Peter  the  standard  of  the 
empire.  But  since  Passe  Rose  rode  that  morn 
ing  from  Aix  with  Werdric,  it  were  not  our  busi 
ness  to  paint  a  fleeting  pageant.  And  if  any 
one  should  deem  it  strange  that  she  should  ride 
to  Maestricht,  and  not  to  Frankenburg,  where 
her  lover  lay  wounded,  let  him  remember  that  in 
all  times,  when  the  road  is  rough  and  dangers 
threaten,  a  woman  will  win  her  way  in  spite  of 
them  to  the  side  of  her  lover  ;  but  that  when 
the  road  is  smooth  and  open,  when  the  wedding 
train  is  ready,  the  horses  neighing  in  the  street, 
and  the  priest  waiting  at  the  parvis  door,  she 
will  dally  at  her  toilet  table  and  linger  with  her 
maids  before  descending. 

If  ever  a  man  had  paid  dear  for  a  hot  word 
spoken  in  wrath,  that  man  was  Werdric,  the 
gold-beater  of  Maestricht.  Had  Jeanne  flown 
at  him  with  reproaches,  that  morning  when  the 
madness  of  a  shameful  suspicion  got  the  better 
of  love  and  reason,  grief  had  been  easier  to  bear. 


346  PASSE  ROSE. 

But  to  see  her  stealing  up  the  turret  stair,  listen 
ing  at  every  footstep  without  the  gate,  and  look 
ing  up  eagerly  at  the  sound  of  a  latch ;  to  see 
her  wits  departing  with  her  hope  day  by  day, 
and  yet,  from  force  of  habit,  her  hand  still 
turned  to  her  tasks;  to  feel  her  eyes,  as  he 
worked  on  the  holy  image,  watching  hungrily  its 
beauty  grow  under  the  tool's  edge,  was  almost 
beyond  endurance.  Many  a  man  will  breathe 
God's  air,  close  his  eyes  in  sleep  and  open  them 
again  to  the  sun,  without  the  knowledge  of  what 
these  things  mean ;  wrongly  believing  that  in 
the  gold  which  swells  his  purse  or  the  wheat 
which  bursts  his  barn  lies  the  bulk  of  his  happi 
ness.  Thus  Werdric  had  lived  in  joy  and  peace 
with  his  wife  Jeanne,  not  knowing  wherein  his 
content  lay,  till,  one  morning,  he  found  the 
kitchen  fire  dead,  and  the  bench,  where  she  was 
wont  to  sit,  empty.  But  now,  returning  home 
from  Aix,  he  thanked  God  for  every  breath  he 
drew,  and  for  every  sunbeam  struggling  through 
the  trees  ;  for  Passe  Rose  rode  before  him,  as 
on  the  morning  when  he  found  her,  coming  from 
St.  Denis'  fair,  and  Jeanne  was  following  but  a 
day's  journey  behind  them. 

"  It  is  firmly  fixed  in  my  mind,"  said  Passe 
Rose,  as  they  journeyed  side  by  side,  "  that  if 
the  pot  is  put  to  boil,  and  all  things  made  to 
appear  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  our  mother 
will  recover  her  reason." 


PASSE  ROSE.  347 

At  these  words,  tears  filled  Werdric's  eyes  and 
coursed  down  the  furrows  of  his  cheeks;  but 
there  was  no  bitterness  in  them.  For  his  heart 
was  swollen  with  happiness,  and  when  this  is 
the  case  one  has  great  confidence  in  God. 

Never  was  Passe  Rose  so  surprised  as  when, 
opening  the  garden  gate,  she  saw  the  geese  un- 
pastured  and  the  boy  lolling  with  the  maids  in 
the  grass.  It  seemed  as  if  every  stick  and  stone 
knew  of  Jeanne's  absence.  The  weeds  were 
growing  insolently  in  the  path  ;  the  leaves  had 
assembled  in  companies  under  the  wall,  and 
chased  each  other  at  will  over  the  beds ;  the 
very  pots  were  dull,  as  with  spleen,  and  spiders 
wove  in  the  corners.  But  forthwith  Passe  Rose 
set  the  boy  at  the  weeds  and  the  maids  at  the 
pots,  and,  leaving  them  to  marvel,  went  up  the 
turret  stair  to  her  own  chamber.  There  was  the 
open  chest,  with  the  dress  she  loved  flung 
therein ;  there  among  the  fragments  of  the  holy 
image  lay  her  purse  on  the  floor,  where  it  had 
fallen  when  she  hurled  it  in  her  rage  at  the 
Blessed  Mother  of  God  ;  and  there,  too,  was  the 
print  of  her  face  in  the  golden  sun  broidered 
on  her  bed-cushion.  Surely  Jeanne  had  often 
come  by  stealth  to  gaze  at  these  things,  and  now 
for  the  first  time  Passe  Rose  saw  that  this  deso 
lation  was  the  work  of  her  own  hand.  She  who 
had  given  her  pardon  to  Werdric  needed  now 


348  .        PASSE  ROSE. 

pardon  for  herself.  "  Seigneur  Dieu ! "  she 
cried,  falling  on  her  knees  and  stifling  her  sobs 
in  the  golden  sun,  "  I  was  more  cruel  than  he." 
Whether  she  prayed  while  sobbing  so  heavily 
I  know  not,  but  just  then  a  sound  of  distant 
chanting  came  as  it  were  an  answer  from  heaven 
itself.  She  raised  her  head,  listening.  "  That 
should  be  the  monks  of  St.  Servais,"  thought 
she ;  and,  rising  quickly  from  her  knees,  pushed 
wide  her  window  of  horn.  A  flood  of  sunshine 
enwrapped  her.  "  Why  sing  they  at  this  hour  ?  " 
she  cried  to  a  passer-by. 

"  Knowest  thou  not  the  abbot  hath  gotten  his 
health  ?  The  monks  give  the  praise  to  God." 

"  Aye,  aye,  God  be  praised,"  said  Passe  Kose, 
drying  her  tears. 


XXV. 

The  next  morning  came  a  messenger  from  the 
hill  to  Passe  Rose,  saying  the  abbot  desired  to 
speak  with  her,  much  to  the  astonishment  of 
Marethruda,  who  observed  everything  from  her 
window.  For  while  it  was  publicly  said  that 
Werdric  had  found  Passe  Eose  in  the  king's 
palace,  as  the  sons  of  Jacob  had  found  their 
brother  at  the  court  of  Pharaoh ;  that  Passe  Rose 
had  won  the  king's  favor,  and  would  wed  the 


PASSE  ROSE.  349 

newly  appointed  master  of  the  stables,  —  Robert 
of  Tours  being  dead  in  Hungary, — these  rumors, 
so  far  from  appeasing  Marethruda's  curiosity, 
like  stones  dropped  in  a  water-jar,  only  caused  it 
to  overflow  the  more.  On  hearing,  in  the  mar 
ket-place,  that  Passe  Rose  was  betrothed  to  the 
captain  of  the  king's  horse,  she  had  shrugged  her 
shoulders  contemptuously,  declaring  she  would 
credit  it  when  wolves  preached  to  lambs,  and 
cabbages  had  the  smell  of  roses.  But  when 
Werdric  showed  her  a  samite  cloth  woven  of  six 
threads  in  Sicily,  the  gift  of  Agnes  of  Solier  for 
a  bridal  robe,  for  the  tressed  silk  of  whose  girdle 
he  was  fashioning  two  dragons'  heads  with  gap 
ing  mouths  to  hold  the  strands,  she  could  doubt 
no  longer.  "  God  pardon  us  !  "  she  thought,  as 
she  watched  Passe  Rose  go  forth  mounted  upon 
one.  of  the  sleek  monastery  mules,  remembering 
how  she  had  joined  her  neighbors  in  declaring 
/  the  girl  to  be  a  demon. 

Half-way  up  the  hill  Passe  Rose  bade  the  mes 
senger  ride  on  before  her.  "  The  motion  fatigues 
me,"  she  said.  "  I  will  rest  here  a  little,  and  join 
thee  at  the  gate."  When  he  was  gone  she  slipped 
from  her  seat,  tying  the  mule  by  the  roadside,  and 
went  in  through  the  thorn-thicket  to  where  Gui 
had  found  her  fastening  her  sandals.  There  she 
lingered  awhile,  listening  to  the  brook's  tumble  ; 
then  went  down  among  the  mulberries,  to  the 


350  PASSE  ROSE. 

place  where  she  had  sat  with  her  lover.  Did 
she  feel  nearer  to  him  among  these  mute  wit 
nesses  of  her  first  confession  ?  At  her  approach 
the  mulberry  leaves  ceased  their  whispering,  and 
she,  observing  them  all  tenderly,  stood  still  in 
their  midst,  as  if  ashamed  at  all  they  knew. 
Regaining  the  road,  she  met  the  herdsmen  going 
with  the  pigs  to  the  oak  feeding-grounds,  and 
citizens  coming  from  the  sale  of  new  wine,  held 
every  autumn  without  the  abbey  gates ;  and 
these,  intent  upon  their  own  business,  went  their 
ways,  with  only  a  glance  or  word  of  common 
greeting,  when  it  seemed  to  Passe  Rose  that 
every  one  should  stop  to  gaze  at  her.  A  sense 
of  superiority  lifted  her  above  them  all,  and  she 
looked  with  pity  to  see  such  sordid  cares  on  the 
faces  of  God's  creatures.  Indeed,  the  mulberry- 
trees  were  far  more  congenial  companions,  and, 
though  ignorant  of  the  price  of  new  wine,  were 
better  judges  of  the  fruits  which  God  has  planted 
in  his  garden. 

There  were  no  stars  in  the  water-mirror  as  she 
neared  the  pond,  but  the  sun  shone  there,  mak 
ing  a  golden  whirlpool  where  the  waters  eddied 
about  the  sluice.  Her  guide,  angry  because  she 
dallied  by  the  wayside  when  the  abbot  was  wait 
ing  in  the  orchard,  stamped  his  foot  impatiently 
to  see  her  now  gazing  stupidly  into  the  pool. 
But  Passe  Rose,  occupied  by  her  thoughts,  o1> 


PASSE  ROSE.  351 

serving  first  the  bush  where  she  had  lain  con 
cealed,  and  then  the  small  gate  whence  Friedgis 
had  issued,  paused  again  under  the  wall  of  the 
Saxon's  cell ;  at  which  her  companion  muttered 
so  loudly  that  she  drew  a  long  breath,  and  fol 
lowed  him  in  silence.  At  the  orchard  gate  he 
left  her,  and  she  perceived  the  abbot  on  the  seat 
near  the  cliff's  brow,  beckoning  to  her.  Ad 
vancing  under  the  king's  gaze,  in  his  cabinet  at 
Aix,  she  felt  less  trouble  than  now,  remembering 
how  this  holy  man  had  thought  her  certainly  to 
be  a  devil,  once  dwelling  within  him.  Her  step 
trembled  and  her  cheeks  burned,  and  she  covered 
these  with  her  hands  as  she  knelt  down  before 
him.  Yet  never  did  penitent  bow  with  greater 
assurance  of  pardon,  for  between  her  fingers  she 
saw  upon  the  abbot's  knees  a  parchment  missive 
stamped  with  the  king's  signet.  There  was  a 
silence,  and  then,  — 

"  God  has  sent  thee  much  sorrow,"  said  the 
abbot. 

"  And  great  joy,"  she  replied,  lifting  her  head. 
The  evidence  of  it  was  on  her  face,  and  Passe 
Eose  was  convinced  that  the  abbot  knew  all  that 
she  had  ever  said  or  done,  for  immediately  he 
added,  — 

"  In  sorrow  we  curse  God,  and  in  joy  we  for 
get  him."  Then  he  pointed  to  Maestricht, 
spread  below  on  the  plain,  where  the  river  shone, 


352  PASSE  ROSE. 

saying,  "  When  Christ  was  yet  young,  as  thou 
art,  Satan  took  him  up  to  such  a  place  as 
this"  — 

"  Aye,  father,"  murmured  Passe  Rose  quickly. 

"  Thinkest  thou  the  Tempter  showed  him  lands 
and  gold  and  honor  only,  and  not  love  also?" 
said  the  abbot. 

Though  his  voice  was  gentle  and  his  palm 
rested  on  her  hair,  Passe  Rose  stood  up,  trem 
bling. 

"  If  thou  takest  away  my  love,  thou  takest  the 
staff  from  my  hand." 

The  abbot  turned  away  his  head,  and  then, 
after  a  little,  "  God  make  it  to  blossom  like  that 
of  Aaron." 

"  And  give  it  rain  and  sun,  that  it  may  bear 
fruit  to  his  glory,"  added  Passe  Rose  candidly. 

"  Thine  is  the  age  of  ready  promise,"  said  the 
abbot,  looking  at  her  with  a  show  of  severity. 

"  And  great  courage,  father." 

Vanquished  by  her  sturdy  confidence,  the  ab 
bot  turned  his  eyes  again  to  the  plain.  The  sun 
was  struggling  with  the  autumn  wind  to  make 
the  day  fair,  breaking  at  times  from  behind  the 
clouds  with  a  burst  of  its  springtime  power. 
Certainly  it  did  not  occur  to  Passe  Rose  that, 
like  the  sun,  she  could  open  to  the  abbot  a  vision 
of  spring ;  for  who,  in  the  shadow  of  a  mighty 
tree,  would  ever  think  that  its  stubborn  trunk 


PASSE  HOSE.  353 

had  once  swayed  to  May  winds,  or  that  so  rugged 
a  bark  was  ever  smooth  and  fair  ?  What  Passe 
Rose  saw  was  the  king's  letter  close  under  her 
eyes,  yet  as  far  from  her  comprehension  as  had 
been  the  gospel  page  on  the  altar  of  St.  Servais. 
"  I  will  ask  leave,"  she  was  vowing  to  herself, 
"  to  come  to  the  abbey  school,  that  I  may  mas 
ter  this  mystery ;  "  and  at  the  same  time  she 
remembered  the  ivory  tablets  sold  by  the  Greek 
merchant,  also  an  alphabet  designed  to  hang 
from  the  girdle,  and  thought  how  well  they 
would  become  her. 

Surprising  her  gaze  fixed  upon  the  letter,  the 
abbot  took  the  missive  from  his  knee.  "  The 
king,"  he  said,  "  hath  sent  hither  the  silver  pyx 
from  his  chapel  at  Aix.  Into  whatever  place 
this  pyx  is  carried,  there  the  sick  are  healed,  the 
barren  bear,  and  reason  returns  to  the  witless. 
Art  thou  able  to  fast  "  — 

"  Oh,  willingly !  "  cried  Passe  Rose. 

"  And  to  pass  the  night  in  prayer  "  — 

"  That  is  nothing,"  she  interrupted  eagerly. 

"  For  to-morrow  thy  mother  returns.  At  the 
third  hour,  by  the  king's  command,  the  brother 
hood  will  assemble  to  chant  the  litanies  of  Mar- 
cellus,  which  the  Virgin  taught  the  saint  from 
her  own  mouth  at  Embrun.  At  that  hour  the 
bell  will  ring  in  the  tower  of  St.  Gabrielle,  and, 
at  its  sound,  lift  thy  voice  also  to  heaven."  He 


354  PASSE  ROSE. 

raised  his  hand,  and  Passe  Kose  knelt  again. 
"  The  peace  of  God  and  his  angels  guard  thee." 

Passe  Rose  did  not  stir.  When  at  last  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  the  abbot's  face,  they  were 
shining  as  never  stars  shone  in  the  pond.  She 
rose  to  her  feet,  yet  did  not  turn  to  go.  A  scar 
let  flush  overspread  her  face.  She  retreated  a 
step,  and  paused  again,  with  a  wistful  glance  at 
the  letter  of  the  king. 

Opening  it,  the  abbot  began  to  read :  "  In  the 
name  of  God  and  of  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ, 
Karle,  by  the  will  of  the  Divine  Providence, 
king,  to  Rainal,  abbot  of  St.  Servais :  Be  it 
known  that  our  will  is  that  you  make  prepara 
tions  to  come,  the  xv  of  the  calends  of  January, 
that  is  to  say  six  days  before  Noel,  to  our  palace 
of  Aix,  there  to  celebrate  the  espousals  of  our 
faithful  vassal,  Gui,  Count  of  Tours  "  — 

Here  the  abbot  looked  up  from  the  missive. 

But  Passe  Rose,  who  had  gone  with  her  dag 
ger  to  the  Saxon's  cell,  who,  though  bred  among 
dancers,  bore  herself  courteously  with  a  king's 
daughter,  had  fled  ;  and  going  down  the  hill, 
now  walking,  now  running,  sang  aloud  the  salut 
she  had  sung  to  Queen  Hildegarde,  when  she 
danced  at  Chasseneuil :  — 

"  God  give  thee  joy, 
And  great  honor.' ' 


PASSE  ROSE.  355 


XXVI. 

Since  the  world  was  made,  the  wise  pretend  to 
set  Art  over  against  Nature,  showing  how  the 
latter  proceedeth  by  law,  repeating  herself  by  a 
blind  necessity,  without  admixture  of  will  or 
purpose.  Yet  no  man  twining  his  hovel  with 
vines,  clothing  his  nakedness  with  fineries,  or 
fencing  his  life  about  with  ceremonies,  can  com 
pare  with  Nature  in  enchantments  and  illusions. 
No  painter  will  make  the  flat  appear  round  with 
greater  nicety,  no  coquette  hide  a  blemish  with 
such  delicacy.  With  a  moonbeam  she  will  out 
do  fancy,  and,  splitting  the  sun's  rays,  weave  her- 
self  garments  of  such  beauty  as  puts  imagination 
to  shame.  When  age  is  written  on  her  face  she 
will  wear  her  gaudiest  ribbons,  and  no  flower  of 
the  field  under  the  autumn  stars  would  dream 
that  the  drops  gathering  on  its  petals  were  the 
sharp  points  of  her  frost  arrows.  Has  any  one 
failed  to  observe  how,  like  an  old  woman  who 
tries  her  wedding  dress  when  her  wrinkles  are 
as  plenty  as  its  creases,  Nature  will  put  on  her 
spring  gown  when  leaves  are  falling  and  the  ribs 
of  rock  appear  in  the  mountain  pastures ;  how 
she  will  draw  about  her  passing  comeliness  a  veil 
of  mist  so  full  of  glamour  that  one  is  forced  to 
believe  her  youth  restored,  and  winter  far  dis 
tant? 


356  PASSE  ROSE. 

In  Jeanne's  garden  the  leaves  of  the  carnelian 
cherries  were  yellow  and  specked  with  black, 
and  their  branches  ready  to  shiver  at  the  least 
breath  of  the  wind ;  the  plum-trees  were  tired 
of  growing,  and  no  longer  strained  to  reach  the 
top  of  the  wall ;  shallot  and  parsley  were  with 
ered  into  brown  tufts  of  shrunken  leafage  ;  and 
the  apples  on  the  kitchen  wall  were  pinched  and 
lustreless.  But  none  of  these  things  could  con 
tend  with  Nature,  bent  upon  counterfeiting  a 
spring  morning.  Purple  hemp-nettles  bloomed 
along  the  wall,  —  one  might  think  they  were 
May  harebells  ;  asters  and  yellow  celandine  nod 
ded  to  each  other  across  the  path,  as  neighbors 
passing  in  the  street  might  greet  each  other  with 
wishes  for  a  long  life ;  hairy  heads  of  grass  jos 
tled  each  other  under  Marethruda's  window ; 
and  everywhere  the  loriots  and  the  sparrows 
preened  and  plumed  their  feathers  wisely,  as 
birds  will  when  the  young  are  grown,  and  all  the 
screaming  and  chirping,  the  worry  and  fuss,  of 
spring  loves  and  summer  cares,  are  over.  Under 
the  open  kitchen  roof  the  fire  blazed  on  the  stone 
floor,  with  fagots  fit  for  use  hard  by ;  a  fleecy 
steam  rose  from  the  pot,  and  the  spoon  protruded 
above  the  rim  ready  for  the  hand  to  seize ;  the 
geese  were  at  pasture,  the  two  maids  washing 
at  the  river ;  Mardthruda  was  leaning  from  the 
window  as  formerly,  when  she  had  news  to  tell ; 


PASSE  ROSE.  357 

through  the  open  door  came  tinkling  sounds  of 
tools  where  Werdric  was  at  work ;  and  by  the 
wooden  post  under  the  eaves  Passe  Rose  herself 
sat  in  the  sun,  combing  wool  and  watching  the 
shadow  of  St.  Sebastian's  tower  creeping  up  the 
path. 

At  every  sound  in  the  street,  Marethruda, 
her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  garden  gate,  started. 
"  Dieu  !  "  she  called  to  Passe  Rose,  "  my  tongue 
cleaves  to  my  mouth ;  it  will  not  move  even  to  a 
prayer." 

"  Leave  prayers  to  the  monks,"  said  Passe 
Rose,  drawing  her  comb  through  the  wool,  but 
trembling  inwardly  ;  "  thy  business  is  to  speak 
some  common  word  as  thy  wont  is  when  she 
returns  from  market." 

"As  true  as  I  live,  I  can  think  of  nothing," 
replied  Mare*thruda. 

"  Say  that  the  abbot  hath  sent  her  a  tun  of 
beer  in  exchange  for  the  cheeses." 

"That  had  not  occurred  to  me,"  said  Mare*- 
thruda.  "  Is  it  sour  or  honeyed  ?  " 

Passe  Rose  cast  a  quick  glance  of  scorn  at 
her  neighbor ;  then  the  comb  dropped  from  her 
hand  in  the  wool,  for  the  bell  struck  in  the 
tower  of  St.  Gabrielle,  and  immediately  the  gate 
opened  and  Jeanne  entered. 

Passe  Rose  could  neither  stoop  to  take  her 
comb  nor  lift  her  eyes.  Every  beat  of  her  heart 


358  PASSE  ROSE. 

was  like  the  stroke  of  the  bell's  hammer.  She 
wished  to  run  and  clasp  to  her  bosom  the  form 
she  knew  was  standing  in  the  door,  and  at  the 
same  time  a  cruel  thought,  "  If  I  show  her  over 
much  love,  she  will  mistrust  me,"  took  all  her 
courage. 

"  Thou  art  late,  so  I  put  the  pot  to  boil,"  she 
gasped,  regaining  her  comb  with  a  desperate 
motion. 

Her  eyes  riveted  upon  Passe  Rose,  Jeanne 
stood  immobile  in  the  archway.  In  her  fin 
gers  she  held  the  ragged  skirt  of  her  garment. 
Whether  she  heard  the  pot  steaming  on  the 
tripod,  or  the  click  of  Werdric's  tools,  or  the 
burden  of  the  monk's  hymn,  "  Alleluia,  song  of 
sweetness,"  I  cannot  tell ;  but  at  the  sound  of 
Passe  Rose's  voice,  she  advanced  a  step  timidly, 
then  stood  still  again.  In  her  eyes  one  could 
see  the  struggle  of  contending  passions,  distrust, 
desire,  fear,  and  the  hunger  of  love's  famine. 
With  a  rapid  glance  about  her,  she  took  another 
step  forward,  and,  seeing  Mare'thruda,  smiled 
faintly ;  then,  hesitating,  retreated  again,  like 
an  intruder. 

It  seemed  to  Passe  Rose  that  God  and  Mare' 
thruda  deserted  her;  and  forgetting  both,  as 
also  the  silver  pyx,  she  rose  in  her  own  strength, 
and  went  to  meet  her  mother.  I  know  not  what 
mixture  of  sweet  cajolery  and  commanding  will- 


PASSE  ROSE.  359 

fulness  was  in  her  face  and  motion,  but  as  she 
drew  near  Jeanne  began  to  smile,  and  then  to 
laugh,  —  a  laugh  so  strangely  pitiful  that  Passe 
Rose  burst  into  sobbing,  and  caught  her  about 
the  neck. 

"When  Mare'thruda,  hastening  from  her  win 
dow,  reached  the  spot,  Passe  Rose  was  seated  on 
the  garden  walk,  holding  Jeanne  to  her  bosom, 
and  Werdric  knelt  beside  her.  "  See,  her  lips 
move  !  "  cried  Marethruda,  beside  herself. 

Passe  Rose  bent  her  ear  and  listened. 

"  What  says  she  ?  "  asked  Marethruda  excit 
edly. 

And  Passe  Rose,  looking  up  through  her 
tears,  whispered,  "  That  she  dreamed  the  geese 
had  gone  astray  in  the  meadow." 

He  who,  before  he  returned  to  Paradise, 
opened  by  a  word  the  sealed  ear  to  the  sounds 
of  his  world,  and  the  closed  eye  to  its  beauties, 
might  doubtless  have  set  Jeanne's  wits  aright 
instantaneously,  without  leaving  them,  as  it 
were,  to  grope  first  among  the  geese,  and  to  set 
themselves  in  order  little  by  little  with  the 
growth  of  her  bodily  vigor.  But  such  is  the 
general  course  of  his  Providence,  —  to  proceed 
by  gentle  stages,  and  not  after  the  hot  desires  of 
our  own  wills.  And  if  through  much  longing 
Passe  Rose  chafed  at  the  delay  in  her  mother's 


360  PASSE  ROSE. 

restoration  and  the  healing  of  her  lover's  wound, 
yet  she  gathered  more  happiness  by  the  way  than 
if  God  had  granted  her  wish  as  the  fays  do,  in  a 
point  of  time.  Thus  a  man  enters  the  temple  of 
his  joy  as  he  would  go  to  the  church  of  St.  Ser- 
vais,  on  the  hill  above  Maestricht,  seeing  first 
the  tower  of  Gabrielle  from  a  distance,  then 
hearing  its  bell  faintly,  afterwards  losing  all 
sight  of  its  walls  among  the  oak-trees,  till,  hav 
ing  passed  the  ponds,  they  appear  again  close  at 
hand,  and  at  last,  gaining  the  steps  of  the  par- 
vis,  he  lifts  the  curtain  and  goes  in  to  the  shrine. 
And  it  was  so  that  Passe  Rose,  when  Jeanne 
had  left  her  bed,  and  the  time  of  the  espousals 
drew  near,  went  up  to  the  public  mass  said  in 
honor  of  the  silver  pyx  which  had  worked  her 
mother's  cure.  The  service  had  commenced 
when  she  reached  the  church  door,  so  she  went 
forward  on  the  points  of  her  toes,  listening  to 
the  priest  reading  the  epistle.  His  voice  quiv 
ered  like  a  flame ;  she  recognized  it  well,  though 
it  was  new,  and  as  she  passed  the  last  pillar  she 
perceived  the  celebrant  was  Brother  Dominic. 
Remembering  what  terror  she  had  thrice  caused 
him,  she  remained  in  the  pillar's  shadow,  observ 
ing  him. 

His  face  had  grown  thin,  changed  in  some 
marvelous  fashion  like  his  voice.  Fascinated, 
she  advanced  unawares,  and  their  eyes  met. 


PASSE  ROSE.  361 

His  look  passed  from  her  face  as  the  wind  leaves 
the  cheek,  and  his  voice  soared  higher :  — 

"  Love  not  the  world  "  — 

At  these  words  Passe  Rose  started,  as  at  a 
blow. 

"  —  neither  the  things  that  are  in  the  world. 
•  .  .  The  world  passeth  away  "  — 

But  Passe  Rose,  looking  up,  smiled. 

For  love  abideth  forever. 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 


